The First Years
by Shippygirl
Summary: First House Part 1 and 2 added. What if the anomaly hit T'Pol? Also, T'Pol discovers the depth of her connection with Jonathan.
1. Prologue

The First Years

Rating: PG -13, T

Cods: A/T'P, through good times and bad times

A/N: I consider this a prologue to the chapters to come. This was written after Ch.1 and parts of Ch.2. I wrote myself out of my writer's block in this part. This part has more flashbacks than an episode of Highlander, but that's the way it came out. This story will follow A/T'P, and show the development of the colony. The next chapter will be posted next week after I've edited for grammar and flow.

* * *

"You have to get out of here," T'Pol pleaded Archer.

"I'm not leaving you," he replied. Gritting his teeth, he strained to lift the fallen support beam again. It moved a few inches off the floor, enough for T'Pol to pull her leg free.

The sound of electrical sparks and the groan of metal buckling under strain came closer by the second. Archer's eyes met hers. In his eyes she saw reflected the green tint of the approaching anomaly. His hand reached out for hers and encircled her arm. Cool skin brushed against hers sending fear racing along her nerves into her mind. She tried to pull him to her. '

Archer's eyes widened. It was too late. Panic and fear screamed out silently to her. The anomaly pushed the floor like a wave towards Archer. The wave crashed against his boots pushing him off his feet, pulling him inside the chaotic space, and ripping his hand from T'Pol's. Air violently rushed from his lungs. T'Pol watched a green glow envelope his body. Forces inside the anomaly pulled and pushed in on his flesh contorting it.

Inside his brain, the anomaly deposited new occupants. They made themselves comfortable in their new home. The parasites worked towards their pre-programmed effect, merging the past and present.

_He didn't remember how he fell into the water. Suddenly water replaced air surround him and filling his lungs. Water journeyed from his toes to his head through his veins, muscles, and bones expanding and contracting them. A strong current pulled him under. His arms flailed trying to resist it. Above the water's surface he saw colors and distorted shapes. The sun's light hit the water highlighting the waves in gold. He fell deeper._

The anomaly moved on causing his body to fall and slam into the deck. The edge of anomaly passed over his face warping it with ripples that slowly subsided.

T'Pol leaned forward staring at Archer's still body. Debris and sparks from the shattered overhead lights steadily rained down around them. Those sound mingled with T'Pol's breath. Logic and control fled out of her mind leaving behind only emotion. Her emotions clouded her mind overcoming her defenses. A fear spoke up inside her saying Archer might be dead. She froze looking at him thinking about what that would mean to her.

Recovering from the lapse, she pushed her emotions behind her shields. Using the wall for support, she stood up. She shifted some weight to her left ankle, testing it. Pain shot up her nerves catching her off-guard. T'Pol clenched her teeth together and closed her eyes. Ignoring the pain, she walked over to Archer and knelt down beside him. Relief spread through her when she heard his low breathing. Her left hand moved to his neck and searching for and finding a faint pulse beating beneath her fingers.

_Now his attention turned to the air bubbles retreating away from him. His body settled on the sand bottom of the ocean. He struggled to move his arms and legs but found them too heavy to move. Energy bled out of him. He closed his eyes. A Muffled voice filtered down to him. Hands sliced through the water followed by a person. Opening his eyes a fraction, he saw a blurry face coming closer to him. He thought the face would be Dad coming to save him after he saw Jonathan's empty inflatable raft. When the face hovered inches over him, he realized it wasn't Dad. Locks of hair shifted forward, exposing pointed ears. He opened his mouth to say the name that came to mind. Lips parted a few centimeters and only air escaped heading up to the surface. _

A ceiling panel fell behind them briefly drowning out the growing creaks and groans of the corridor. T'Pol tried to wake Archer. They needed to get out of there quickly. Despite T'Pol shaking his shoulder and saying his name, Archer remained unconscious. T'Pol moved to the nearest comm. panel. It was down. The next was damaged as well. It was illogical to wait for help that might not come in time. She looked over at her captain's still body and decided what she needed to do.

_Hands slid under his body pulling him up from the sand. Shapes above the water came larger and larger until he broke the surface. Arms slipped under his shoulders and legs carrying him. Through heavy lids he saw the face shadowed by the sun behind it. Legs sliced awkwardly through the water towards the beach. His body shook with their movement. Occasionally one of the feet caught in the sand. The legs would stumble and recover then continue towards the beach. _

Sickbay's doors opened. T'Pol entered carrying Archer in her arms. Her body moved on autopilot, suppressing the pain of her ankle. Phlox and a nurse raced over to her. Together they laid the captain down on the nearest biobed. Orders were shouted over the hum of instruments. T'Pol watched them try to stabilize Archer.

She thought she lost him in the corridor. She knew she hadn't when Phlox revived him later. Later she realized she had lost him. He was not dead, but he would not be able to live his life the same unless Phlox found a cure. Her feelings almost broke through her control while she absorbed the news of his condition. She made a decision soon after to help him in any way she could.

* * *

T'Pol knelt before her meditation table. Legs tucked beneath her, she sat with her back straight and her arms resting in her lap. Beneath her closed lids her eyes moved back and forth and her chest rose in a steady, almost imperceptible rhythm. Candles grouped on the meditation table cast a yellow glow on her darkened quarters. The only other light came from the stars warping past the viewport. The candlelight flickered, changing the shadows on T'Pol's face. Shadows swallowed the dark blue fabric of her uniform. Light painted the stripes on her shoulder a vivid gold. The four rank bars above the stripe on her right shoulder shimmered.

Her morning meditation became part of her routine in the weeks following the accident. After retelling events to Archer, she would come back to her quarters and meditate to clear her mind. Memories frequently resurfaced during her sessions. Her mind returned to the corridor often, reliving every detail. Grief and failure accompanied the memory of the Xindi weapon shattering Earth's blue globe into angry red pieces. She examined the emotions and accepted them. Letting them drift away like smoke wafting from the candle flame. They might return another day. Their hold on her lessened over time, yet she doubted she would ever be free of them.

Thoughts distracted her. The problem she contemplated many times before wouldn't go away. T'Pol gave up meditating and opened her eyes. Her hesitance over this matter was illogical. There had to be a logical solution to the problem. She only needed to think the problem out and find it. The problem had never been simple, like her feeling for the man involved.

T'Pol could not pinpoint exactly when Archer became more than a captain to her. She initially perceived him as arrogant, reckless, and volatile. Time passed and new picture of him emerged. Duty, dedication, self-sacrifice, and compassion were new words to describe him. She came to know a captain who used instinct more than logic. An explorer who found exploration often pushed aside for diplomacy and conflict. A man who despite his hate Vulcans for holding back Earth's warp program reached out to her and tried to understand her.

Over time their relationship changed. He admitted he needed her as his first officer. She trusted him with her life. He entrusted her with their ship, crew, and his life. Their arguments became less heated, and he began listening to her advice even if he didn't take it in the end. Their relationship may have made the transition to more when their conversations turned away from work. Both she and Archer were private people so it took time to learn more about each other. Their relationship grew until she considered him her captain and her friend.

Then, the Xindi attacked Earth. He changed, and so did her picture of him. His sense of wonder and exploration became hidden under his need to save Earth. His smiles and laughter disappeared. He stopped reaching out to friends and to her, and focused solely on his work- the mission, and their survival. He shed his morality adapting his nature to the Expanse. Each mistake drove him to learn from it and try harder. Each death wounded him deeply. She knew he was adapting the only way he knew how. But the price to him was high.

The anomaly took the captain hardened by the Expanse away leaving a vulnerable man behind. Archer could no longer change himself. His life changed from one where he made decision and control over his life to one where he had almost no control. Archer changed from a man defined by who he was to a man defined by who he wasn't, captain of Enterprise. He couldn't adapt fast enough each day to the changes in his life and form a new life.

T'Pol tried keeping Archer involved in ship's business. All her attempts ultimately failed. Even Archer's own suggestion didn't work, like his idea to work in engineering with Trip.

_Less than a week after Archer started working in engineering, Trip came to her. He explained what happened. Even if Archer caught up on the latest engineering specs every morning, the situation wouldn't work. T'Pol told Trip she'd tell Archer the news herself. _

_Once again, she saw the bitter frustration on Archer's face. _

"_I'm surprised it worked as long as it did. I should've known better than to suggest it in the first place." _

_He stood up from his bed and walked over to the viewport. T'Pol dropped her hands from behind her back and followed him. He stared out at the silence of space watching the stars warp by. Starlight reflected in his eyes. His face drew into the look of sadness and hopelessness she knew well. _

"_How could you be certain of the outcome without trying?" T'Pol asked trying to redirect his thoughts._

_Archer turned his head to his right to look at her. "I know Trip and myself well enough to know better. Trip is used to receiving my orders not giving me orders. I've been captain too long," he gave her a weak smile, "It would take me more than a day to get used to taking orders again." He sighed. "I must be desperate to try something like this." She knew he was desperate– desperate to have control over his life again. _

"_You are only trying to adapt to the circumstances resulting from your condition." _

_He couldn't adapt fast enough. They both knew it. In his eyes he couldn't contribute anything to Enterprise. He accepted that, but didn't like it. Unlike him, she didn't believe that. She kept inviting him to the daily briefings in the captain's mess to show him and herself he could still contribute something on Enterprise._

Following T'Pol's promotion to captain, the briefings stopped, Archer stayed in his quarters "keeping out of the way". Trip, Hoshi, and other members of the crew visited him occasionally. Most of the visits T'Pol witnessed were awkward for the guests and Archer. The spirits of the crew hit bottom after the Xindi weapon destroyed Earth. Visitors appeared at Archer's doorstep less and less. During the convoy's journey to the Ceti Alpha system, T'Pol reached out to him in her off hours walking Porthos with him and taking him to the newly formed classrooms on D deck.

_One time she slipped in the classroom unnoticed to take him to lunch. Laughter broke out from some of the children sitting behind the tables. At the front of the class sat Archer telling one of Enterprise's "adventures" in a fashion T'Pol reasoned was exaggerated for effect. What he lacked in the descriptions, he made up for in his enthusiasm for telling the story. His hands would move, and his gaze would turn inward as he remembered and described an image from his memories to the children. The children hung on every word. _

_She'd walked in unnoticed on a story she knew. Archer smiled when he told them about the giant mud pit that he decided the team should walk around it. He found out that was a bad idea when he slipped and fell into the pit. _

"_I sat up in mud up to my chest. When I wiped the mud from my eyes, I saw that I was completely covered in mud. It looked like I'd fallen into a big, bubbling pit of hot chocolate, except it smelled like rotten eggs." Several "Ewwws" came from the children. _

"_Trip, T'Pol, and Lieutenant Tanner were all looking down at me stunned. _

_T'Pol asked me, 'Are you okay Captain?'_

_I spit out a mouthful of mud and said 'I think so. Only my pride is hurt.'_

_I looked over at Trip who seemed to be having trouble breathing. His face was turning red. I looked at him wondering what was wrong until he busted out laughing. _

'_This isn't funny,' I said waving a finger at him, which only slung mud up in the air. _

'_Oh yes it is.' He kept laughing. T'Pol looked at him raising an eyebrow then back at me. _

_I tried to stand up but slipped on the slick bottom falling back on my butt. Trip started laughing so hard he started coughing for air. _

'_Trip, would you stop laughing and help me get out of here?' I said reaching a hand out to him. _

_He took my hand and fell for it, hard. I wish Trip could have seen the look on his face when I pulled him into the mud. His eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. Before he could scream, he belly flopped into the mud beside me. He pushed himself up and spit out a mouthful of mud. I started laughing. He looked so funny coated in mud. I could tell he wasn't happy with me when he opened his eyes. I didn't care. What could he do to me? He flung a handful of mud at me. I laughed harder. _

'_That'll teach you not to laugh at your captain.' I told him. I think Trip is still planning his revenge to this day. But it was worth it. T'Pol looked down at us. Both of her eyebrows rose up into her hair like this. She and Tanner helped us out after we promised wouldn't pull them in." _

_The teacher interrupted saying their time was up. Archer said goodbye to the class and walked toward the back of the room. He noticed T'Pol waiting inside the doorway and walked over to her. T'Pol studied him. He was smiling. The frustration and hopelessness was gone. She saw him again, the man he was before the accident. They continued on to lunch. _

_T'Pol started bringing him a few times a month after that visit. _

T'Pol shifted her mind away from the problem at hand to possible solutions. The colony offered a permanent solution. Archer wouldn't be reminded each day of the life her lost by the walls around him and the people walking the corridors. He wouldn't be holed up in his quarters for most of the day. Moving might prove beneficial to him. The problem was he needed a caretaker in order to move to the surface.

Archer's accident prompted her to seek Dr. Phlox's help to wean her off of Trellium-D. Now she was completely free of the substance and its affects. She could take care of herself and Archer for the remainder of her life. Her pa'nar syndrome might eventually come out of remission and degrade her neural pathways to the point of death. Despite the over 47 likelihood of that happening, in her mind she was the logical choice for Archer's caretaker. She dealt with the emotions the Captain expressed over past events with Vulcan meditation and emotional suppression. A human would lack those extra coping skills. Archer would not trust a stranger as his caretaker, and she doubted anyone he knew would volunteer for the duty. Taking into consideration those factors, she concluded she was in actuality not the logical choice but the only choice.

Enterprise would need a new captain if she left. Commander Tucker could be promoted from first officer to captain. T'Pol knew Tucker would captain Enterprise well. Maybe the crew would like his command style better than hers. She tried to captain Enterprise to the best of her abilities. But she wasn't Archer. Logic ruled her decisions and her gut didn't speak to her like Archer's did. Tucker blamed her and her decision to ram the Xindi ship for the mission's failure. During the six months of repairs to the warp coil, their command relationship devolved into brief exchanges punctuated by anger and blame on his part. He expressed his feelings more diplomatically now, but she could see the feelings were still there.

Guilt rose in T'Pol's stomach. She failed Earth, her crew, and Captain Archer. T'Pol questioned herself: Did she want to help Archer because of her guilt? T'Pol searched her feelings for answers. She did feel guilt that Archer contracted an illness that she would have if he left her behind. Her guilt also stemmed from her promise to Archer.

_The day she took command of Enterprise she went to Archer's quarters. He took the news better than she expected. He slumped forward on the couch leaning on his knees with his elbows. His expression blank, he looked down at his hands laced together between his open legs. His eyes filled with emotion and his face drawn, he looked back up at her. _

_He swallowed. "I know you'll take good care of our ship and the crew. Continue on the mission. Do whatever you have to do to save Earth." She nodded remember several of the 'whatever's Archer had committed. He weakly smiled at her, "Trust the crew and yourself."_

_She spoke to him as his first officer for the last time, "Yes captain. I will not fail you." But she did fail him and Earth. _

"_I know you won't fail." He switched to the voice he reserved for her when they were alone. "If you need advice, to talk, anything… I'm here." _

_She hesitantly left his couch some time later. Porthos jumped into his lap and nuzzled his hand. T'Pol watched as Archer began absently stroking the dog's fur. Then she exited his quarters._

The day after her conversation with Archer, she looked at the drab blue Starfleet uniform hanging neatly in her closet next to her colorful array of form fitting uniforms. She dressed with the same care and attention to detail she did every morning. An illogical sensation materialized while pulling on the uniform, queasiness in her stomach. The fabric hung on her body loosely shifting with each move, gathering in wrinkles, rubbing against her skin itching it, and floating over her skin instead of hugging it. Moving over to her mirror and the shelves beneath it, she reached for one of the rank bars lying there. She hesitated, her hand picking one up one of them. These were Archer's own bars. These should be on his shoulder not hers. He should be captaining Enterprise now. She should be the one suffering long-term memory loss. She looked up from the bar at herself in the mirror.

_She remembered the words her mother told her the day after her father died. T'Pol regretted not waking up early to tell her father goodbye before he left on the mission that killed him. T'Les looked into a seven-year-old T'Pol's eyes and said, 'T'Pol, it is illogical to dwell on events that cannot be changed.' _

_T'Pol fastened the rank bars to the right shoulder of her uniform then finished her morning routine. _

T'Pol extinguished the candles on the meditation table. She knew it was illogical to dwell on the events in the past, but she still did. If retelling the story to Archer each morning led to these memories and feelings surfacing, how would living with Archer day after day affect her?

She didn't know the answer, or the answers to so many other questions. Moving to the colony could be a good decision for Archer and her or a terrible mistake. That was a risk she was willing to take. She'd made her decision. Now she needed to take care of a few details before she and Archer left Enterprise.


	2. Chapter 1: Leaving Enterprise

Summary: The crew says goodbye to two of their captains.

A/N: Most of this part I wrote shortly after the news of Enterprise's cancellation and I think it shows. The prologue was written after this part, so there may be some writing style differences.

"Come in." Archer said.

The door to Archer's quarters slid open. He lay on his bed intently reading a book. Porthos hopped down from his place lying against Archer's side to go greet the new guest. At first Archer didn't look away from his book to see who entered.

After his trip to the mess hall this morning, he didn't want to see another face today that looked at him, hesitating, wondering how to interact with him. Or have another of the brief conversations followed by an awkward silence. Thankfully some faces were different. Like Hoshi's smile and greeting when he passed by her table. Trip's smile and familiar accent almost calling him Captain then recovering and saying Jon.

In his mind, some of those faces he'd seen just a few hours before. He understood their reactions to him. He was still the person they knew but he could no longer talk to them about the latest events or serve among them. He was a man stuck in time. Life to him was lived in a day. Sleep was death, robbing him of his memories. In the morning he became again the man struggling to comprehend a world that changed around him.

Archer dropped his book onto the bed. There was no point in reading it since he would forget what he read when he fell asleep. He read it to pass the hours he spent in his quarters today with nothing to do, and to take his mind away from wondering if things could have gone differently if the accident didn't happen.

He looked over and saw T'Pol standing just inside the door to his quarters her hands clasped behind her back. No hint of emotion crossed her face. It was refreshing after the reactions he experienced a few hours ago.

"T'Pol. I didn't expect you to come back today. Please have a seat," he said dropping his book and gesturing to the couch.

He stood up and looked through the view port at the planet below and several civilian ships orbiting the planet alongside Enterprise. As he turned around he noticed T'Pol actually took his offer and sat down, something she rarely did. He also noticed she was out-of-uniform, wearing a pair of loose tan pants and a long sleeved red shirt. Unlike the Starfleet uniform with captain's rank she had on during her visit this morning.

Walking over to the small couch he sat beside her. He turned towards her to see her face while they spoke.

"What did you come here to talk about?" he asked.

"I did not tell you this morning that I plan to resign my commission."

Archer watched her as she gauged his reaction. A dozen questions entered his mind but all he could manage to ask was, "Why?"

"Enterprise and the other Starfleet vessels will remain in this system protecting the colony. The crew is capable of performing their duties without me. I can be of more use on the planet's surface."

Her face and voice were devoid of emotion. She'd obviously planned what she would tell him ahead of time. He knew her well enough to know she was answering her logical reasons for doing this and avoiding answering any emotional reasons that lay beneath.

"I have a hard time believing that's the only reason you're doing this."

"I have my reasons." She said. He waited for her to explain. T'Pol continued before he had a chance to pry for more information.

She continued her pitch to sell him on the idea, "I came to ask you if you want to move to the colony with me. Living on the surface could be beneficial to you. You have tried several times to find a new position on Enterprise with no success. I have talked with the community leaders who are coordinating the design and construction of the colony. There is a need for engineers, welders, architects, and other disciplines. You possess some of these skills. I could inquire if there is a position you could perform despite your memory difficulties."

Archer didn't believe that he would be able to work again, and he didn't think she believed it either.

'Why is she asking me to come with her?' Archer thought. 'She could just force me to go with her. I'll forget whether I gave my consent or not in a few hours anyway. No. She wouldn't do that. That wouldn't be the T'Pol I know. I might not remember agreeing to come out of my own freewill but she will. She'll stand by whatever I decide.'

He silently thanked her for letting him make a decision that affected more than just today.

He looked at her stunned finally realizing the emotional reason hidden beneath her logic, "You're doing this because of me. Aren't you? I don't want you to give up your commission just because of what may be on the planet for me. What will be down on the planet for you?"

'You' The answer came easily to her mind as she looked into his eyes. She continued to recite her train of logic, "I have inquired about the workers needed on the planet. The community leaders need scientists to conduct surveys for colony sites as well as local plant and animal life, water, and mineral resources. Hydroponics gardens will supplement the protein resequencers supplied by Ambassador Soval. I could assist in the building or maintaining of the gardens. There are several other projects which may need my skills as a scientist."

Despite her words, he couldn't stop feeling she was giving up life on Enterprise out of - what? Loyalty? Guilt? Something else? He didn't want her to regret her decision later. He didn't want to be the source of those regrets. He leaned closer to her. Lowering his voice, he said his next words hoping his fears about her motives were unfounded.

"T'Pol. If you're doing this for yourself, or for the colonists, that's fine, but please don't do this for me. It doesn't matter to me where I live or what I do. I'm not the one who has to remember for more than a day. You do."

"When I contracted pa'nar syndrome you did not treat me differently. You did not think of me as incapable of living my life because of my illness. You have never treated me in that manner, yet you do so to yourself."

"This is different. I can't remember yesterday or the days before that. I'm trying to catch up with all that's happened before it all slips away again. I don't have a life anymore. I just exist."

"Your illness prevents you from captaining Enterprise, but you still have a 'life'. The colony may provide opportunities for both of us. I believe moving to the colony is the only logical solution."

Archer knew she had a point. He didn't have a life here anymore. She was stubbornly determined to take this course of action. It was her life and she wanted to do this for her and for him.

"I need to know the answer to one question before I decide…why do you really want me to move to the colony with you? Is it the same reason that brings you here every morning to tell me about the past?"

He deduced she'd told the story to him many times after seeing her calm while telling him and her lack of surprise at his emotional reactions. Her demeanor now was still outwardly calm. But she treaded carefully through their conversation like she did not know what to expect.

T'Pol's eyes widened, and she looked as if she considered evading his question. "In the corridor I asked you to leave yet you did not. You stayed and tried to save me from the anomaly. I asked you before why you did not leave and save yourself. You told me you couldn't leave me behind. You said you needed to save me and would do it again no matter what the consequences. If you had not stayed, I would be the one with your condition."

Archer's voice lowered his voice trying to break through to her. "So you're doing this because you feel guilty? The anomaly put the parasites in my brain. You didn't. It's not logical to let misplaced guilt run your life."

T'Pol looked down at her hands then back up at him. "You are my captain and my friend. I am trying to do what I believe is best for you.… In my position I believe you would do the same."

Archer looked down at his hands. He now understood more than she knew why she was doing this. His face softened and his eyes looked over her face as he thought of the years ahead of her. Archer thought back to his mother caring for his father as he degenerated slowly from Clark's disease. Sally cared for a husband who couldn't remember at times her or their years together. She held the pain inside and became a pillar of strength for him and his father. He never heard her complain about her situation. He saw her eyes red from crying, and heard her muffled sobs when she thought she was alone. He would have taken that burden away from his mother in instant if he could. He wanted to spare T'Pol from a similar life now. But he couldn't. She felt a need to do this and would not be swayed. Caring for him on Enterprise or on the colony was just a matter of location.

His feelings answered for him as he looked back into her eyes, "Yes, I would do the same for you."

He cupped her right shoulder with his hand. "I hope I've said this to you before and that I tell you again… thank you."

"Your gratitude is not necessary." He could tell from her eyes that she did appreciate his thanks.

"Yes it is. I appreciate all you've done for me and what you will do for me…" He took a breath trying to work past the knot in his throat and said, "I'll go with you."

Archer couldn't help feeling that he just handed her a life sentence.

Archer looked over to his right and saw T'Pol's reassuring presence. She looked up at him feeling his eyes on her. He smiled at her then turned back to the door. He reminded himself to keep his smile and try not to let his disbelief show on his face. Taking a deep breath he touched the keypad opening the door.

He still couldn't believe this was happening. This morning he'd woken up in his bed to find his quarters bare. Staggering around his quarters half-asleep, he'd found some of the contents of his medicine cabinet still sitting near his sink and a change of clothing in his closet. Porthos was missing along with his bed, water bowl, and food. An open suitcase lying on the floor near the closet caught his attention. He thought until then that Trip might have played an elaborate practical joke on him. Looking at the contents of the suitcase, he knew he'd packed it himself. His socks were rolled in the peculiar way he learned from his father. The way only he used to save space when packing. The rest of the contents were folded and stacked carefully. He was about to call Dr. Phlox about his lapse in memory when his door chimed. T'Pol entered and asked him to sit down. Then she explained everything. Today was an important day. They were leaving Enterprise.

The mess hall was already full with people mingling enjoying refreshments when they walked through the door. Crewmembers shook Archer's hand and smiled at him as he passed through the mess hall.

"It looks like our guests of honor have arrived." Hoshi said to Trip.

Trip and Malcolm turned away from their conversation with each other and looked at Archer and T'Pol moving slowly through the crowd towards them. Trip greeted them when they reached the long table set up in front of the entrance to the Captain's mess.

"Jon, T'Pol. I'm glad you could come."

"I heard about your promotion Captain Tucker. Congratulations." Archer smiled and shook Trip's hand. Trip forced a smile onto his face. He'd heard the same congratulations from Archer many times. It was another of the many reminders of the accident. Trip hated to see his friend live through this every day.

"Thanks Jon. If you both will have a seat, I'll get this party started."

Trip pointed to the two seats at the center of the table. Archer and T'Pol sat and were soon joined by the senior staff, who took the other empty seats at the table. Hoshi remained standing behind her chair. She opened a channel ship-wide when Trip nodded at her.

Trip stood behind his chair and called out to the crowd "May I have your attention please." The crowd stopped talking and turned towards him. "Please be seated." He waited for them to find their seats. "I'm not very good with speeches. The truth is I don't like them. They usually sound too formal and impersonal. So if you all don't mind I'll just talk for a bit about the two people we're here for today."

He looked over at Archer and T'Pol. Jon gave him a slight smile of encouragement. "I've known Jonathan Archer for 12 years now. I'm proud to call him my friend. I'm also proud to have called him Captain. He's taught me more than I can ever repay him for. Jon." he said with a sad smile, "I'll take care of the ship and look after the crew for you." Trip was glad he said that to him even if Archer would only remember it for a few more hours.

"I think most of you know that T'Pol and I didn't start off on the best of terms." Some of the crewmembers nodded or mumbled in agreement recalling their arguments, "I now consider her a good friend and a helluva officer. I've served under two great Captains." Trip looked at both Archer and T'Pol. "A toast to Jonathan Archer and T'Pol." He raised his glass and the other people in the room followed. "Thank you both for guiding this ship and all of us through some of the toughest times we've had to face. You will be missed." The sound of clinking glasses filled the room and was followed by standing applause for Archer and T'Pol. "Even though they are leaving today, I hope they will stay here in spirit continuing to guide us. I also hope they won't be strangers. You're both welcome back here anytime"

After Trip sat down Archer stood up "Thank you Trip. I don't think I deserve the praise. A captain is nothing without a great crew. I've been honored to serve with all of you. I feel like this crew became a family and Enterprise our home. When I first stepped on Enterprise, I knew I had good officers in my crew but I didn't know how lucky I was to have all of you yet. You've taught me so many things." He looked over at Hoshi. "You've taught me about finding strength." He looked at Malcolm beside her. "Courage while facing death." He turned his head and looked at Phlox "About holding onto your ethics." He looked at Trip. "Standing up for what you believe in even when it bugs the hell out of your superior officer." Some of the crew smiled or laughed. Trip responded to Archer's lopsided grin with his own smile and a brief chuckle. The laughter died down as he locked his eyes on T'Pol who sat to his left. "Ridding yourself of prejudice and growing to appreciating the differences between people, and of working together towards a common goal." He looked back out over the mess hall at each face. "I'd like to make a toast to the crew of Enterprise, the best crew a captain could have."

The crewmen drank from their glasses of engineering's home brew toasting to that. T'Pol raised her glass of tea with them and sipped it preferring not to take a gulp like the humans and lone Denobulan in the room. Archer sat down and Trip took that as his cue to stand up and instruct the crew to enjoy the buffet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone stand. Looking over to his left, he saw T'Pol standing with her glass in hand. He froze half-standing, staring at her. Trip recovered and sat back down. The other occupants of the mess hall seemed as stunned as him.

T'Pol stood and tried to look out over the mess hall in the manner Trip and Archer had while speaking. She felt a twinge of nervousness in her stomach but ignored it. "I came to Enterprise expecting to serve here no more than a few days. I stayed with this crew because I found a place where I was needed. Living among you has made me better understand the similarities between our two peoples and to appreciate our differences. This ship and her crew have come to mean more to me than I anticipated. It has been an honor serving as your first officer and captain. It has been my honor to serve with you all." Archer didn't expect T'Pol to admit as much as she did. From the crew's reaction they took her speech in the spirit it was given, a proud Captain's goodbye to her crew. The crew in the mess hall stood applauding her speech.

Dinner followed the speeches. Archer tried to eat but kept thinking about the strangeness of all of this. He looked up from his plate at the sea of blue uniforms. He felt naked and out of place in his civilian clothes. He never imagined leaving Enterprise or his crew this way. In his imagination he'd always been the last one to leave Enterprise before her decommissioning. After saying goodbye to all the crew, he would roam the corridors of the empty ship saying goodbye to Enterprise alone. Then he would travel back to Earth leaving his ship for the last time. This felt wrong to him.

T'Pol sensed his unease and looked over at him. "Is something disturbing you?"

"It's nothing," he said giving her a half-smile to reassure her.

The tables were abandoned and the crew mingled with him and T'Pol. Some crewmen left to relieve the few people who were manning their stations during the event so they could also come. Most of the people attending came over to Archer and T'Pol to say their goodbyes. He kept hearing from them what an honor it had been to serve under him and how much they would miss him. He shook their hands, gave them smiles, and talked with some of them about the past. As the afternoon wore on, the day stopped feeling surreal and the truth hit him hard. He was leaving Enterprise. His memory of this day would vanish, but he intended to say a proper farewell. He already said goodbye to his crew. Now he needed to say goodbye to his ship.

The crowd slowly thinned in the mess hall leaving a few stragglers and the senior staff. Archer talked with them awhile before saying he had a few places to visit and would see them later.

When they were out in the corridor T'Pol walked beside him. "Where are you going?"

Archer stopped. "To say goodbye to Enterprise. She's been a good ship. I know it must sound funny, but I need to do this. I promise we won't be late for our launch time."

T'Pol nodded her head slightly indicating she understood. "It is not 'funny' if it is important to you."

Archer's lips curled up into a smile. "I would like you to join me. She's your ship too."

Their first stop was engineering. Rostov stood at attention and saluted him when he entered. Archer smiled, old habits died hard. He looked at his father's engine while he spoke, "At ease Rostov. I'm just here to say goodbye."

Rostov's eyes followed his gaze understanding. "Yes sir." Rostov left engineering letting him say goodbye alone.

Archer looked back at the engine. He walked along side it looking over the machine he knew so well.

The first time he saw his father's engine it was a white ink outline printed on a large sheet of blue paper. Numbers and words he didn't understand accompanied the arrows that pointed to various parts of the warp engine. His father caught him peaking over the desk to see the schematics. Picking his son up and putting him in his lap, Henry pointed to each part of the engine and explained its function. _"It doesn't look like much on paper, but someday it will make a starship fly at Warp 5." "How fast is that daddy?" _Henry explained to the wide-eyed boy just how fast that was.

Archer put his hand on the metal surface of the engine. _"Do you feel that?" "You mean the thumping?" "Yes. An engine is like the heart of a ship. When this engine is inside a ship you'll be able to feel it beat from decks away." _

T'Pol stood near the door of engineering watching the curious display. Archer slowly dropped his hand back to his side. Looking over to T'Pol, he said "I'm ready to go if you are." and walked out with her.

The turbolift doors opened depositing Archer and T'Pol onto Enterprise's bridge. Hoshi and Malcolm sat at their stations, and Trip sat in the center seat. They all stood up as Archer walked out of the turbolift.

"Captain, I didn't know you were coming here." Trip said.

Archer ignored Trip's slip. "I'm just passing through. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. Would you like to have a seat?" Trip stepped aside from the captain's chair.

"Yes." Archer walked over to the chair and sank down into it. His fingers touched the armrests. He sat there a few moments remembering the years he'd spent on the bridge. Looking out the viewscreen he saw the planet below. Another of the many reminders of what he felt: Enterprise wasn't his home anymore. The captain's chair felt strangely uncomfortable. He didn't belong in it. He no longer led this crew as their captain. He was now just Jonathan Archer, a man who would soon be one of the thousands of human colonists of Ceti Alpha 5.

"Thank you Trip." Archer stood up and looked around at the senior staff. "I don't think I've told all of you enough how much of an honor it's been to serve with you. A captain's not supposed to say this to his crew… there were times that I've been afraid. At those times I knew I could count on each of you try your hardest and together we would pull through… I'm trying not to think of this as a goodbye. I hope to see you all again one day."

"This isn't goodbye. You'll have to deal with my visits, and I have a feeling I won't be alone." Trip said with a sad smile.

"I should head back to my quarters before I go to the launch bay." Archer managed a weak smile before he headed back to the turbolift. He couldn't think or speak right now. His emotions were warring inside him. He wanted to stay on Enterprise with the crew and his friends. Another part of him painfully felt that he no longer had a place here.

T'Pol directed the turbolift to take them back to the deck of their quarters. She allowed Archer to think and reflect without interruption. The lift halted and opened up. They walked in silence back to his quarters.

Archer packed the last of his belongings into the suitcase and shut it. Picking up his suitcase in one hand, he looked over his quarters one last time making sure he wasn't forgetting anything. On the desk was something he wouldn't be taking with him. He walked over to the desk picking up the leather bound book with his free hand. Archer would deliver it personally. Turning off the lights he exited his quarters.

"Are you ready?" T'Pol asked. A small duffle bag hung over her shoulder. It smelled of the incense she burned in her quarters.

"I am." T'Pol searched his face to read his emotions.

Archer could hear the faint rhythmic sound of the engine deep in the bowels of Enterprise as he traveled towards the launch bay. His eyes ran over the deck plating and walls seeing the small battle scars never fully repaired. Enterprise was a beautiful ship whose stories were told in the imperfections that the casual eye would miss. Her first captain remembered some of these stories as he passed through the corridor.

Lining the hallway to the launch bay were the remaining senior staff of Enterprise. Archer's face fell as he thought again of T'Pol's news about Travis this morning. In T'Pol's eyes he'd seen the look he knew to well. Regret for a crewman lost under your command.

T'Pol lightly touched his arm bringing him back to the present. Archer put down his suitcase then walked over to the senior staff.

Trip was the first person he came to. "Take care of the ship for me. I know she'll be in good hands." Archer presented the book to Trip. "I have something for you."

Trip looked at the book in his hands not knowing what it was. It lacked the engraved title on the spine of the book that the rest of Archer's books had. A thin leather strap wrapped around the book tying it shut. Trip untied the strap and opened the book. He flipped to the first page and read the handwritten words.

"It's my captain's log. I find it easier to write down events than to say them aloud sometimes. I want you to have it. The empty pages are yours to fill in if you want."

"Thank you Jon." Trip shook Archer's hand then wrapped his arm around Archer pulling him in for a hug. Tears hung in both their eyes but neither of them felt ashamed.

Even though Archer wouldn't remember, he said for Trip's benefit, "I'll be counting on that visit Trip."

Trip tried to keep the smile on his face as he watched Archer walk away. T'Pol walked over to Trip."I need to ask a favor of you T'Pol."

T'Pol looked at him her expression blank, "What favor do you need?"

"Jon can be as stubborn as a mule and he'll want to be independent. He won't want to ask for your help even if he really needs it. Be patient with him."

"I had no intention of being otherwise," T'Pol said stoically.

"I should have known you'd say that. I know you won't let anything happen to him but I had to ask." Trip looked over at his friend who was trapped in a bear hug by Hoshi. Trip could see a tear slip down Hoshi's cheek. When Hoshi finally set him free, Archer thanked her for temporarily taking care of Porthos. Trip looked back at T'Pol. "Goodbye Captain T'Pol."

"Goodbye Captain Tucker." By far, it was one of their better conversations since the accident. T'Pol didn't know if Trip still blamed her decisions for the destruction of Earth. She felt at that moment like they had come to some form of understanding.

T'Pol saw that Archer had moved to Reed who saluted him and shook his hand then said a few words to him. T'Pol talked with Hoshi who said live long and prosper in flawless Vulcan, and gave the Vulcan salute. T'Pol responded in kind saying peace and long life.

After completing their farewells to their friends and comrades, Archer and T'Pol retrieved their luggage and entered the launch bay boarding Shuttlepod One.

The rest of their luggage was already stacked in crates near the back of the shuttle. It was only a fraction of the items in their quarters. They wouldn't have a place for all of that on the expedition. The rest of their belongs were stored on Enterprise.

T'Pol powered up the shuttlepod's engines and prepared for launch. She would be flying since she was more familiar with the terrain. The bay doors opened letting the pod fly away from Enterprise descending towards the planet.

Ceti Alpha 5 filled the viewscreen of the pod. Several small oceans surrounded the large continents on the portion of the planet visible to Archer. Faint slivers of ice caps covered the north polar region. Archer saw small clumps of green scattered across the continents. The planet wasn't as lush as Earth, but neither was it completely arid. His new home didn't look like paradise. He didn't expect it to be. No planet could compare to Earth in his mind.

The shadow of the shuttlepod on the clouds below became larger and large as the pod descended toward the clouds. Passing through a thick layer of cumulus clouds, the pod shook as it encountered turbulence.

"We should reach the colony site in approximately four minutes," T'Pol reported as her hands glided over the controls.

The shuttlepod broke through the clouds. The pod dove down closer to the terrain. They followed a mountain chain until they reached a plain nestled next to the mountains. A river ran down from the mountains meandering across the flat land towards the horizon. Several miles away from the river a handful of buildings stood out against the trees that dotted the landscape. Archer realized as they approached that they were not buildings but small ships.

A message came over the comm. "This is Ceti Alpha Air Traffic Control. Unidentified shuttlepod please identify yourself."

"Ceti Alpha control. This is Shuttlepod One from Enterprise requesting permission to land."

"Shuttlepod One we've been expecting you. Proceed to the landing strip and these designated coordinates."

T'Pol read the coordinates on the screen. "Coordinates received. Shuttlepod One out."

T'Pol guided the shuttlepod in to land in landing field. It was little more than a cleared field stretching seven kilometers near the colony site. At the end of the field sat a cargo module converted into Ceti Alpha Air Traffic Control. Archer looked at the ships littering the field as they passed over them. Several cargo ships detached from their cargo modules. He recognized a few of the names but didn't know their captains or crewmembers personally. Small personal ships, assorted mining vessels, tug ships, and shuttles the dotted landing field. Archer reasoned the small ships were housed inside other ships on the journey to the planet. On first glance the field might appear to be ships arbitrarily lined up in two long parallel rows. But on closer examination Archer saw that the flight controllers allowed enough space between the ships for loading and unloading of cargo. Each ship could take off without disturbing the next.

T'Pol piloted the shuttle pod smoothly into its designated landing area touching down on the ground between two civilian shuttles. Archer waited for T'Pol to power down the engines.

"Are you ready?" T'Pol asked as she turned in her chair.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

She crossed over to the pod door and opened it stepping out. Archer followed her but stopped short.

His eyes were drawn away from the landing field to the colony beyond it. Archer could see sparks slowly moving around on the hull of a cargo ship resting amongst the sparse clumps of grasses about two kilometers away. As his eyes adjusted to the sunlight he realized what the sparks were. Walking on the hull of the ship in grav boots and fire retardant suits were several humans cutting through the hull with plasma cutters. A small ship, which was only a few times bigger than a shuttlepod, hovered above the cargo ship near the piece the humans were freeing. The bright light of the plasma cutters stopped, and the humans moved on to another section of the hull and started cutting again.

The small ship extended a grappling arm. The sound of the arm connecting with the hull momentarily drowned out the noise of the plasma cutters further up the hull. A few minutes passed while the ship sat waiting. Then the grappling arm shook as crews on the inside severed the temporary connections from the interior of the ship to the section of hull. The shaking of the arm stopped, and shortly afterwards the ship moved slowly pulling on the piece of hull. It easily came loose exposing rooms on different decks of the ship to view. The ship adjusted under the weight of its load and flew away from the cargo ship.

Archer's eyes followed its flight path beyond the cargo ship towards the half dozen buildings in various stages of construction. It slowly lowered the piece down beside what looked like other various shapes and sizes of hull fragments. As Archer watched another ship flew over to the scraps pieces of hull and selected one latching on to it and flying it over towards a building site. Other small ships gathered around the various construction sites rendering aid with their grappling arms. Human figures swarmed on the construction sites, on and inside the landed ships, and on the ground around the massive construction project.

T'Pol intently watched Archer's face as it turned from awe to something akin to pride. Archer would want to help his people in any way he could. At that moment she felt even more certain that she made the right decision in bringing him here. She walked back over to the shuttle and stood beside him watching the colony slowly come together underneath the alien sky.


	3. The Colony and The Forest

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Summary: A/T'P witness the building of the colony. Archer wakes up in a forest.

A/N: This chapter I consider the calm before the storm. Next chapter will have more action. messed up my scene break as usual. I might not have caught all of them.

* * *

The heat of the sun beat down on Archer seeping through his shirt and pants. Beneath his shoes he felt sandy soil. Hot, dry air ruffled through his hair. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead after only a few minutes outside of the shuttlepod.

He stood transfixed by the movements before him. This morning, and the hundreds of mornings before that he didn't remember, he thought they had failed to save humanity. Seeing hands building this colony, he realized the human spirit had survived. 'While there's life there's hope,' he though to himself.

When T'Pol stepped out of the shuttlepod, the heat surrounded her in its comforting embrace. Living among humans, she'd become accustomed to the cold temperatures of their planet and their ships, yet temperatures considered hot or unbearable by human standards still felt more comfortable to her. The temperature on Ceti Alpha 5 today was slightly cooler than that of Vulcan, and her skin detected humidity in the gentle breeze that her desert home world lacked. She detected in the air the faint smells of plant pollen, metal being welded, and several chemicals in use on the construction sites. Her ears could distinguish the sounds of tools pounding, grinding, cutting, and welding at locations all around them.

T'Pol turned her head away from the view of the colony when she heard something crunching through the scattered patches of grass in the field. A man dressed in a blue Starfleet uniform, whom T'Pol judged to be in his twenties, ran towards them as fast as his boots would carry him. His short, dark brown hair shifted back and forth on his forehead with each step he took. The man slowed down and stopped in front of them.

"Excuse me sirs. I'm Lt. Phong Nguyen, Commander Tyler's assistant. I'll be escorting you to meet her."

When the two people before him remained silent a few moments longer than was polite, the young man unconsciously fidgeted with his right hand.

T'Pol decided not to tell him they were no longer officers in Starfleet. Instead she chose to try and put the lieutenant at ease. "Thank you Lieutenant."

Archer and T'Pol introduced themselves to him. Archer shook his hand while T'Pol merely bowed her head slightly.

Archer wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The lieutenant smiled. People used to the comfort of steady temperatures on starships or the weather-controlled climates of Earth were in for a rude awakening when they came to the colony. This was only the beginning of summer. The temperature would soar above 105 degrees Fahrenheit soon if the meteorologists' predictions held true.

Nguyen visibly relaxed and led them toward the colony. From the Lieutenant's attitude Archer felt like he and T'Pol were high ranking officers that Nguyen wanted to impress. Whether it was because of Nguyen's eagerness to perform his duties or some other reason, he didn't know.

"The colony administration offices are temporarily located on the other side of the colony. On the way there, I can show you what's being built."

Archer looked over at T'Pol who nodded her head at his silent question. "Thank you Lieutenant. We'd like that."

Archer saw the pride on the young man's face and heard it in his voice as he started explaining what they'd already accomplished in their short time on the planet.

"The cargo ship in front of us is just one of the ships being taken apart by work crews. We've been lucky to have a lot of Boomers and miners who know how to use plasma cutters. The people who've lived in other colonies also know a thing or two about this type of construction. Without people like that we couldn't have accomplished this much so soon."

Passing the cargo ship, their view of the buildings beyond became unobstructed. Buildings were scattered across the plain, some kilometers away from the nearest building. Archer thought that this must be part of a building plan, and eventually houses would fill the gaps between the larger structures.

"That building over by the river," Nguyen pointed up ahead and to the right, "will eventually be one of the hydroponic greenhouses. Some of the starships like Enterprise carry plants that we can get starts of. Expeditions, as you know, have been sent out to locations around the planet to evaluate edible native plant life."

Archer looked at the framework of the greenhouse, which looked like a long cylinder lying on its side. He wondered if glass or transparent aluminum would be manufactured for the walls of the building, or if they would salvage view ports from ships. Archer could see perhaps twenty workers straddling the metal beams of the building's framework. Their forms were silhouetted against the bright midday sun. Sparks shot up from welding torches bringing light temporarily bringing light to the shadows. One person stood up and fearlessly walked across a beam. Only sure footing prevented the worker from falling several stories to the ground.

Archer, T'Pol, and Nguyen rarely encounter anyone else walking on foot until they neared a group of landed ships of various shapes and sizes. The weight of the vessels made their hulls sink several feet into the ground. Sand coated the lower halves of the ships that had been on the planet's surface the longest painting them a light beige.

People passed by them in civilian clothes on their way to and from the airlocks of the ships. A man with a welding shield on his head crossed their path. The shield was flipped up away from his face. His clothing, like that of the other people heading towards the ships from their job sites, testified to the work he did. Dirt, grease, oil, and/or other substances smudged and were soaked through the pants, shirts, overalls, and other clothing of the passersby. Respirators seemed to be a fashion trend. They were worn attached to belt loops or pushed up on top of the head like a hat. The respirators were in a variety of colors and sizes, but they all looked about the same. Over the mouth and nose, the two cylindrical filtration systems protruded from the rubber-like material of the mask. Above that was a clear eye shield. There obviously weren't enough respirators to go around. Some people wore other types of masks and safety glasses. Archer theorized this protection was either for work-related tasks or to be used in the event of a sand storm.

Archer noticed some of the colonists look at the Lieutenant's uniform with something akin to disgust. A few people noticed T'Pol's slanted eyebrows and the copper tone of her skin recognizing her as a Vulcan. Curiosity, hatred, and shock were among the reactions he saw to T'Pol. He looked over to her but couldn't tell if she noticed.

Archer walked closer to T'Pol. He went on the defensive looking over each of the faces that passed by them for signs of hostility. He thought back to how people on Earth and how he himself used act towards Vulcans. Some of these people lived on colonies far from Earth, so the Vulcans holding back Earth's warp program probably didn't affect them. Depending on their isolation from Earth, the Boomers and miners may or may not have grown a prejudiced view of the Vulcans. Most of the passersby didn't notice anything different about T'Pol since the tips of her ears were covered by her hair. Rumors and gossip spread fast on a starship. Archer was sure they spread fast down here too. Pretty soon, everyone would know about the one Vulcan living among them. He realized at that moment the risk T'Pol was taking moving here.

He felt helpless. Before morning he would forget all of this and be unaware of the possible danger. Archer almost laughed at himself. T'Pol could take care of herself. She was a former military operative and stronger than most humans. He immediately blamed his protectiveness on being her former captain. He wouldn't allow himself think of it in any other way.

Nguyen was too involved in his tour to notice the people staring, or the people whispering to their companions about the new arrivals.

"These ships temporarily house the civilian workers. If we keep on schedule, the Council believes we'll be able to divert workers away from the larger building projects in six weeks. Then, people can begin building their own homes."

Laughter caught Archer's attention. Between two drab gray ships, a group of children played with a soccer ball. Sand kicked up with each roll of the ball across the ground. When T'Pol told him about the work crews constructing the colony, Archer didn't picture children living here. No doubt some of the children realized what happened to bring them here. But for now, any signs of pain or sadness where gone.

Archer paid attention to the Lieutenant pointing out the construction sites of the water treatment plant further up the river near the mountain on their left. The hospital was located centrally in the colony with future colony administration building nearby it. The buildings looked similar. Each had a plain, rectangular frame, and the only variations were the size and number of stories. All of the buildings had work crews busy piecing them together.

T'Pol overheard faint voices behind them.

"What is a Vulcan doing here?" asked a male voice.

T'Pol's human companions continued to examine their surroundings. Archer asked a question about the water treatment plant. Their human hearing didn't detect the conversation T'Pol heard.

A female voice replied back. "I don't know. I thought they didn't want to have anything to do with us."

"We don't need them. They wouldn't risk their lives to help us no matter how many times we risked ours lives to help them."

The woman interrupted him, "I know, Eric. Come on. Delta crew needs these supplies."

T'Pol didn't look back to see who was speaking. She unconsciously stiffened at the man's words. The hate in them didn't surprise her. When meditating on her decision to move to the colony, she had considered the colonists' reaction to her. On Earth she'd experienced similar reactions when she traveled without a disguise.

"And this is the temporary administration building. Let me show you to Commander Tyler's office."

The building was actually two cargo modules laid on their sides. Doorways had been jury rigged on the outside. They pushed a keypad and entered one of the modules. On the inside, the ceiling soared above them. The walls of each room were flimsy freestanding walls that didn't meet the ceiling. Doors weren't on the rooms giving each the feel of a cubicle office.

Voices carried from the rooms they passed.

"We don't have time for this! Get Anderson on the comm. line…"

"These safety measures aren't adequate enough to protect…"

"The creatures pierce the ear drums of small mammals then..." Archer cringed when he overheard that.

"Commander Tyler. This is Jonathan Archer and T'Pol."

Tyler looked up from her computer screen to them. She was a middle-aged woman with her hair secured haphazardly in a bun. Gray hairs streaked through her auburn hair. Those gray hairs and the wrinkles on her face could easily be covered up by cosmetic correction. Archer didn't object to either. Her features were only enhanced by age.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed." Tyler said in an accent Archer recognized. She probably came from the mid-west in what used to be the United States of America.

Nguyen turned about face and swiftly exited the office.

Tyler didn't stand up to shake their hands.

"Jonathan Archer. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," A tinge of anger entered her voice. Her face tightened as she glared at T'Pol, "T'Pol. Please sit down."

"You'll forgive me if I don't wheel over to shake your hands. My other wheelchair was damaged during one of the Intrepid's close encounters with a Xindi ship. I'm still getting used to using a hand-powered chair. It's tiring."

Tyler locked eyes with T'Pol. Her anger was barely restrained turning her voice from smooth into gravel, "Let me get straight to the point. I know you went over my head to get a position down here," Tyler sighed, releasing some of the tension from her voice, "You don't know what kind of position you're putting me in. You remember the reaction to Ambassador Soval resupplying our convoy. The same people who didn't want to accept his help will undoubtedly use their influence to make both our lives more difficult. I don't have the time or the energy to fight over this with them."

"I meant no disrespect," T'Pol responded unfazed by Tyler's behavior, "I apologize for any inconvenience my request has and will put on you."

"Of course you didn't mean disrespect. Vulcans never do," Archer thought he might here a touch of sarcasm when Tyler said Vulcans.

"I didn't expect you to go straight to a community leader," Archer wondered which community leader she was referring to, "but I should have known you'd do whatever it took to get what you want. Captains always do. I told you why I recommended you not work on the planet's surface. Most of the people here are good people. But not everyone is. Some will strongly object to your presence here. Whether I like you or not, I'm responsible for you T'Pol, along with every other scientist working under me. I don't have the resources to post a guard detail to you. I can't protect you."

"I am willing to take the risk. I am also capable of protecting myself."

"I'm sure that's true. We both know why you're taking the risk."

Tyler looked over at Archer, silently pointing out the reason, then back at T'Pol. Archer eyes went back and forth between them watching their exchange.

T'Pol replied calmly, "I am here to help the colony just as the other colonists are."

"In time maybe the non-fleeters will believe that." She looked away from T'Pol and picked up a PADD from her desk offering it to T'Pol. "Here are your assigned survey areas. Usually a team of four people minimum is sent out. Given the potential conflicts that could arise between your team members and yourself, I'm sending you two alone. The guidelines for surveying are all in there. I trust you brought all the supplies needed?"

T'Pol took the PADD and looked over the contents. "Yes. I supervised the preparation of several teams before they left Enterprise. I also review the list Lt. Nguyen sent along with your request for this meeting. Is there anything further required of us?"

"Just keep in regular contact with me on the communicator frequency I listed. If I don't hear from you every 6 hours, I will send someone after you. Do a thorough survey, but don't take any unnecessary risks. Do you have any other questions?"

"No."

"Then, I'll see you both in a few weeks."

* * *

He woke to the sound of muffled rainfall. He blinked clearing his blurry vision. His eyes focused the image of a blue dome above him. Through the thin material of the dome, he could see raindrops collecting on the outside and sliding down the surface of the dome. He quickly realized what he was inside of, a Starfleet issue tent. A sleeping bag cocooned his body. Archer breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he had a shirt and pants on. He couldn't remember what happened to get him here, and he hoped he hadn't gotten drunk and done something he would regret. 

Archer sat up and pushed back the sleeping bag. He looked around the tent. A backpack that looked like it was for hiking or mountain climbing lay at the foot of his sleeping bag. To his left on the other side of the tent lay another sleeping bag rolled up neatly. A backpack sat beside it. Uh-oh, not a good sign. He must have been really drunk last night because for the life of him he couldn't remember what happened after his talk with T'Pol in the corridor. Even that memory had gaps in it like Swiss cheese.

The zipper on the half-moon shaped opening to the tent unzipped. A figure in a Starfleet issue away team coat entered then closed the flap behind them. The figure turned around and pulled back the hood revealing their identity.

"T'Pol." Archer whispered. Stunned he stared at her as she silently looked over him.

"I will explain everything shortly." T'Pol walked over to the backpack on the opposite side of the tent. She retrieved what humans called wet bags. She sealed her coat inside one bag and her shoes in another. Pressing the buttons on each of the small control panels caused the bags to hum beginning the process of evaporating the moisture from the items.

Archer's brain worked on overdrive while T'Pol moved around the other side of the tent. Why was he here sharing a tent with T'Pol? And why didn't he remember what they did or didn't do last night? The pup tent looked barely big enough for two people. He had a hard time believing T'Pol would sleep this close to him, even on a mission. What if it wasn't a mission? He swallowed shaking the thought from his head. He impatiently waited for T'Pol to start explaining.

Twenty minutes later his fingers sifted through his hair pulling at his scalp. His hand froze in place for a stretch of heartbeats, and then fell limply down to smooth cotton of the sleeping bag. Tears formed in his eyes. Grief hollowed out his chest and throat leaving him numb. The tent walls collapsed in around him making him choke on his breath. Run, his instincts told him. Get out of this tent and away from what she said. Leaning forward he reached to unzip the tent flap.

"Running away will not change what happened." T'Pol's even voice told him.

Archer sat back on his sleeping bag. How did she know what he was thinking? Looking over at her, he saw her watching him with knowing eyes. Having told him this news many times, she must know his reactions intimately like they were her own.

Minutes passed in silence.

"The sun will rise in approximately eleven minutes." T'Pol dug out a ration pack from her backpack. She sat back down cross-legged on the tent floor facing him. "When you are ready to eat, you can find ration packs in the outer compartment of your backpack"

Archer slipped out of his sleeping bag and sorted through the ration packs. One said pancakes, eggs, and sausage. From a mesh carrier on the side he took a water bottle. Sitting back down on his sleeping bag, he forced himself to eat. The pancakes were chewy, the eggs rubbery, and the sausage crunchy, but he didn't care. He looked off at point beyond T'Pol's shoulder thinking about all she had told him.

"What exactly have we been doing on this survey?" Archer asked between bites.

T'Pol washed down her breakfast with her water bottle then spoke, "We are surveying the terrain of possible sites for a colony, and identifying edible animal and plant life."

Archer interrupted her with a question, "I'm not a scientist. Why I am here?"

"I needed a pilot. I volunteered you." They both knew she could pilot a shuttlepod on her own. Before he pressed more on that matter, T'Pol turned her attention back to his original question. "There are seven survey teams including our team currently on the surface of this planet. We are currently surveying the second location assigned to us."

"Who else came with us?"

"No one."

"Oh." Archer said thinking about why they would be on a survey mission alone.

"The rain has stopped. We should begin packing up our campsite."

* * *

Archer swung his scanner around recording information about the vegetation and looking for signs of small animals inhabiting the forest. Archer wiped his brow with his sleeve. The forest canopy didn't help the heat much. The temperature hovered around 85 degree Fahrenheit, and the air barely moved. They'd been at this all morning- scanning, collecting plant specimens, and scanning some more.

Archer wasn't impressed by his surroundings. This forest couldn't compare in his mind with the breathtaking beauty of the Redwood or Yellowstone forests. He didn't see the simplistic beauty of this place. The trees while their bark, branches, and leave shapes seemed like the type you would see in any forest on Earth. Their branches reached up to the sky, or stooped down towards the sand soil below. The foliage wasn't anything unusual, but the greens, yellows, silver, and purple leaves caught the sunlight and glittered with raindrops from the morning showers. The branches filtered the harsh desert sun, sheltering the saplings huddled around them. Thick grasses formed clumps and scattered about the ground between the trees.

Life held a fragile hold on barely 30 kilometers of this valley between the mountains. The streams meandering down from the mountains kept this forest alive.

They'd arrived in the summer months when rainfall carpeted patches of the sandy soil with wildflowers. Archer noticed the tiny wildflowers were in full bloom, but again compared them to Earth's. Nothing here could beat that standard in his mind. Nothing here could replace Earth.

The sweet fragrance of the wildflowers attracted the planet's equivalent of a bee, an insect smaller than his thumbnail with a purple body and two sets of long, slender transparent wings. Archer scanned one recording its information for T'Pol's later analysis. In the joint database between their scanners he saw that T'Pol had already recorded an entry on the specimen. He looked to his right and saw T'Pol hunching over an overturned log roughly 25 feet away. She looked up at him sensing his gaze. He weakly smiled, silently indicating he didn't need anything, and turned his attention back to his scanner.

So far the only other signs of life in the forest were other insects and small animals. The animals were unusual to say the least. One mammal was the size of a small dog. Ears stood up straight on its head. A hairless prehensile tail extended from its tan furred body. When he and T'Pol approached it, the animal scurried up a tree. Wrapping its tail around a branch, it hung upside down yowling loudly while it wildly shook the branch. Other yowls from near and far responded to the frightened creature.

Archer and T'Pol saw and recorded other mammals and rodents. The only reptile they'd encountered so far was under a foot long. T'Pol put a hand in front of his chest telling him to keep his distance. Several survey parties had already encountered this creature. Its young incubated inside warm-blooded animal's cranial cavities. T'Pol was unsure if the animal would implant one of its young inside a human, but erred on the side of caution.

"T'Pol, I've found a tree loaded with fruit."

Silver leaves covered the tree that stood only about 20 feet tall, about ten feet smaller than the tallest trees he'd seen so far. The tree's trunk looked small enough for him to encircle his arms around it without touching the bark. That was around the typical size of the trees here. Grey bark peeled like paper from its trunk. Peaking out among the silver leaves were blood-red fruit the size of his open hand. Their shape reminded him of the body of a snowman- three rounded sections stacked on top of each other- surrounded by a bumpy peel.

T'Pol's walked over to him and scanned the fruit.

"The fruit is edible. Would you like to try it?"

"You want me to be your taste tester?"

"Human taste buds differ from Vulcans. Since I will be the only Vulcan on the colony, it is only logical that you taste the fruit."

"Okay. I'll do it, but only if you try it too," T'Pol raised a questioning eyebrow, so Archer continued, "If one Vulcan will be living in the colony, it is only logical for her to taste the food too."

"Agreed."

"Too bad the scanner can't tell us which ones are ripe and which aren't. I guess I'll have to use the squeeze test."

T'Pol stopped him before his hand reached up to the tree. T'Pol dug out a rectangular sanitizer T'Pol from her pack. The blue glow dissolved the dirt and sweat from his hands. Archer half-smiled at T'Pol. It reminded him of being told as a child to wash his hands before digging into dinner.

Archer looked over the fruits on the branch nearest to them looking at the coloring of each fruit. He reached a hand up and gently squeezed a fruit between his fingers. The skin gave way and juice matching the color of his bright red t-shirt streamed down his arm to the crook of his elbow. The juice dripped from there down on to his tan khaki pants. Must be too ripe, he thought. He squeezed a few more fruit before selecting one that gave only a little under the pressure of his fingers. Picking the fruit, he pulled it down in front of them.

He brought the fruit to his nose smelling it. It smelled bitter. Bringing the fruit back down to his other hand, he stuck his fingernail in the skin of the fruit and pulled it back until three segments stacked on top of each other were revealed. Archer held out the fruit offering it to T'Pol.

"Do you want to take one of these segments?" Archer asked not knowing if she wanted to eat something after he touched it.

"Yes," T'Pol said and took the smallest segment out. T'Pol examined it, noting the membrane surrounding the crimson flesh and large, white seeds in the middle. "I advise against eating the seeds."

Archer peeled the middle section out of the skin and bit into it. Juice squirted out when he broke the membrane and dribbled down his chin. The flesh was soft and slid over his tongue. He tasted a hint of sweetness at first. Then the taste changed to a bland and almost bitter taste. It reminded him of a dish he once tasted.

"Sash-sava."

"Jonathan?"

"This reminds me of sash-sava."

T'Pol tasted her segment, "It does not taste similar to me. When did you taste a Vulcan fruit?"

"Do you remember me telling Captain Vanik I was a guest aboard the Vulcan ship Yarahla?"

"Yes. You were helping install a graviton telescope. You also participated in a space walk."

"I had the chance to try out Vulcan cuisine in the few days I was onboard. Sash-sava was one of the items served in the ship's galley."

"Do you like the taste of Sash-sava?"

"Not really. They're very…"

"Bland?"

"Yes," Archer nodded his head in agreement.

"Humans often think Vulcan cuisine is bland. We prefer not to use excess amounts of spices or unnatural flavorings."

"That explains it. I've heard of similar cooking methods on earth. At the time I thought maybe they just gave me bland food on purpose."

"I doubt a Vulcan would intentionally do that."

"I was young back then. I thought a lot of things that make me shake my head now. My few encounters with Vulcans hadn't been good. I carried around anger about the Vulcan High Command stalling or threatening to stop the Warp 5 program time after time. Vulcan hospitality is different than humans. I knew the crew thought I was immature, emotionally volatile, and destructive. My behavior probably reinforced those ideas. I wasn't the best guest. I thought they were out to make my time on the ship a living hell. They were probably thinking the same thing about me."

"Your attitude towards Vulcans has changed since that time."

A small smile crossed his face as he looked into her eyes, "Yes, thanks to you."

The weighted moment passed, and Archer decided to change the subject. Archer dropped the remainder of the fruit on the ground. "I don't know if many of the colonists would like this fruit."

"The colonists may not have much of a choice. Viable food sources on this planet are limited." T'Pol packed several of the ripe fruit in a side compartment of her backpack.

T'Pol set her backpack down on a rock and detached a duffle bag dangling below her sleeping bag. Archer saw the duffle bag was in fact a portable stasis bag. Whatever T'Pol put inside it, whether seeds or small plants, would not mold, wilt, or die during their journey back through the forest. She unzipped the stasis bag and brought out several specimen bags. She retrieved several hand tools from a side compartment.

T'Pol crouched down near the base of the tree, and looked up at him saying, "Will you help me gather the seeds?"

"Of course." He bent down beside her and laid his pack down on a clear patch of ground.

T'Pol eyed his face curiously. Her voice calmly informed him, "You may want to wipe the juice from your face first." A corner of Archer's mouth quirked up at her unexpected comment. Archer wiped his face with the back of his hand.

They both began dissecting the fallen fruit on the ground and collecting the large white seeds within them.

"I hope I won't be forced to live on a diet of these."

T'Pol responded to him while she cleaned the juice and flesh from a seed and dropped it in a specimen bag along with the others, "If I cook our meals, you will have no choice but to eat what I cook."

"That's assuming you cook our meals. I can cook."

T'Pol raised her right eyebrow, doubting him.

"Believe it or not, I didn't survive on restaurant food alone when I lived on my own. My mother taught me how to cook. After my father became sick, she needed me to help around the house. I cooked some of the time when she was busy."

Thinking about those years Archer's face fell into harsh angles and plains. He stopped gathering seeds. T'Pol turned, looking at his expression her brow slightly furrowed.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing."

T'Pol contemplated him. Archer knew she didn't believe him. They continued collecting seeds until they had around a hundred.

T'Pol asked, "We have not yet eaten our mid-day meal. Would you like to eat now?"

"Sure." Archer welcomed the distraction from his thoughts.

They both moved their packs and themselves over to flat rocks and sat side by side. The ration pack equivalent of Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans was on the menu for Archer. The ration pack equivalent of plomik soup with kreila bread, courtesy of Ambassador Soval when he resupplied their convoy of ships, was on the menu for T'Pol.

"I believe it is not "nothing"."

"What?"

"You are preoccupied with something, and you will not tell me what it is."

"I'll forget about it in a few hours anyway, so what's the point in bothering you with it?" Archer took a bite of the gummy Salisbury steak and a swig from his water bottle.

"At this time it is important to you. The future importance or unimportance does not matter."

"I don't want to unload all this on you. You shouldn't have to hear this."

"More than likely I have heard what you are about to say before. Since I am Vulcan, there is no need to worry about my emotional reaction to what you have to say."

She was asking him to open up, but that was against his nature. He'd stopped being sharing what was bothering him at a young age. The boy that had to grow up to quick didn't have a dad to talk too. Dad didn't remember him most days, and Mom was at Dad's side. He became self-sufficient and didn't cry because Mom needed him to be strong. The boy became the man who bottled his most troubling feelings up inside and hid the vulnerable side of him. Years of habit stood in the way of opening up to even his closest friends. A part of him wanted to tell T'Pol now. He wanted someone to listen. He'd feel guilty later for needing this, but in a few hours he wouldn't remember the guilt anyway.

Archer pressed his lips together as he considered whether to tell her or not. What the hell. Archer decided. He ate the last of his ration pack and began to talk. He looked out at the trees. If he looked at her, he might stop talking.

"When I mentioned my father, I realized something. You probably know my father died from Clark's disease. The disease attacks the central nervous system. Memory and muscle control degenerate over time."

"I am familiar with the condition. What does it have to do with your realization?"

"I grew up afraid of my chances of getting the disease. I was afraid of ending up like my dad. He slowly lost years of his life and his mind. I passed the age that most cases become active. I thought I'd escaped it. It's ironic that the things I feared the most are happening to me now, except I won't slowly fade away. I'll live out the rest of my life experiencing this every day."

"I understand. It is difficult to live with something you fear."

Archer suddenly guessed what she was talking about, "Your pa'nar syndrome."

"If I experience a relapse, my neural pathways may degrade to the point where I will be permanently insane and eventually die. During my treatment at the sanctuary at P'Jem, I experienced temporary insanity. It is an experience I'd prefer not to repeat."

"T'Pol, why are you moving to the colony to care for me when you may need someone to care for you soon? It doesn't make sense."

"It is illogical to live one's life based on a future that may or may not happen. I choose to not allow my condition to dictate the way I live. I choose to live in the colony with you as long as I am capable."

Archer didn't know how to respond to that. He looked in her eyes seeing compassion he'd rarely seen there. The look reassured him. Turning away from her, he packed his trash back in his backpack.

"Where are we headed to next?"

The stream was right where the aerial surveys said it would be. It carved a meandering path two meters wide through the soft, sandy stone. Engorged by the frequent summer rainfall, the water swelled up to the top of the stream's banks.

The water looked inviting. Archer's shirt and pants were plastered to him with sweat. How good it would feel to wade in the water. He smiled to himself. T'Pol would surely raise both eyebrows at the sight of her captain, he corrected himself, former captain stripping off his clothes and running into the water like it held his salvation. After hours of hiking through the forest in this heat, he was very tempted to do just that.

"There is a high concentration of single-celled organisms, insects, fish and other multi-cellular animals," T'Pol said as she scanned the stream. She turned her scanner downstream. "The stream progressively widens over the next 4.7 kilometers of its length. The concentration of life forms is higher in that direction."

"So we're headed downstream?"

T'Pol looked up from her scanner at him and said, "Yes."

They each scanned and recorded different bioreadings: he the plants, she the animals. Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. Archer remembered now why he didn't pursue a career in life sciences. The natural world interested him enough to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors and activities like camping and rock climbing. But he didn't get the same enjoyment out of spending hours scanning and recording different types of moss and algae in a streambed. T'Pol on the other hand seemed to really enjoy all of this. She broke the silence from time to time to comment on different things that fascinated her. Archer liked hearing what piqued her interest. Her enthusiasm, though she'd never admit to having it, was contagious and made the task less mind numbing to him.

Archer looked up from his scanning wondering what time it was. The time on his scanner correlated with the guestimation he made by looking up at the sun's position in the sky. "We only have a few more hours before sunset. I think we should set up a campsite before then."

T'Pol changed a few setting on her scanner then scanned in all directions around them. "There is a clearing near the stream several hundred feet downstream."

Archer looked over her shoulder at the scanner screen.

"The clearing looks big enough to set up our tent."

In the waning hours of the afternoon Archer and T'Pol set up their tent and ate their dinner ration packs.

"I don't smell too fresh," T'Pol agreed with his assessment but didn't tell him,  
"I probably should take a bath in the stream before the sun completely sets. I'll prepare a fire before I do that."

Archer took some fresh clothing with him and a Starfleet issue fire starter then exited the tent. He sat his clothes down on a dry rock by the stream. Firewood was easy to find in the forest nearby. He dropped the firewood and kindling he gathered in a pile on the ground. Then, he cleared a large circular area for the fire, and placed rocks around the outer edges. The branches he'd gathered for the fire would burn until the morning. The smoke and fire might deter some wild animals, so it would serve a dual purpose. His work was done for now. Later, he'd light the fire.

He stripped out of his clothes. One by one each article of clothing ended up in a heap on the ground. The sun hadn't set yet, but the light of day had already begun to fade as the sun cast the clouds in shades of gold. A gentle breeze blew over his skin making the drops of sweat on his body feel cooler. He shivered and decided he'd better get in the water.

He walked into the stream towards a deep pool of slower running water. The water slowly covered his ankles then dropped off to come up to his hips. The rocks below his feet were covered in algae. The soft, slick surface made it difficult to walk barefoot on. He squatted down in the water until it came up to his neck. Leaning his head back, he let the water soak the strands of his hair and wash away the sweat and dirt of the day.

Pushing off from the rocks, he floated on the surface of the water. He closed his eyes. Cool water gently moved around him lapping at his skin. His mind quieted enough for him to hear the sounds around him: water cascading over rocks, a bird's call, and the rustling of leaves in the distance. He breathed deeply and smelled the combined scent of wildflowers, a scent that reminded him of honeysuckle. He smiled remembering picking honeysuckle as a kid and pulling out the inside of the flower to lick off the sweet nectar. The smell of trees, water, and grasses remind him of camping trips his father took him on.

Tension left his body as he floated. A new sound joined the others, one of wings flapping rapidly. Archer opened his eyes to see what was making the noise. Overhead violet replaced gold painting the clouds while the sun set. An insect, whose body glowed light blue, flew over his head. It hovered for a few moments as if it were checking out the curious creature below it. The insect reminded Archer of a firefly except this creature glowed continuously. It had two sets of rounded wings, one set larger and one smaller. Only the hind section of its body glowed. The glow was bright enough to shine a bright halo around the insect much larger than the few centimeters of its length.

The insect flew off. Archer felt the rapidly cooling air blow over his skin. He stood up intending to dress and head to the tent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something glowing. He looked down and froze. All around him were hundreds of glowing pinpoints of blue light below the water. Looking closer, he saw the lights were clusters of eggs along the shoreline and sheltered between the rocks. While he watched, one light broke free of an egg and floated up to the water's surface. Untucking its legs, the insect stood on top of the water's surface, and then spread its wings to dry them. A few minutes later, it flapped its wings flying up to join its brothers and sisters.

"Beautiful," Archer said watching the shining lights dance around him.

T'Pol checked in with Tyler's assistant, Lt. Nguyen, assuring him they were fine, and relaying the things of note they'd found over the past 6 hours. She entered a light meditation afterwards awaiting Archer's return.

"Beautiful." She heard Archer say.

"Cap-," she corrected herself, "Jonathan, what is happening?"

"You said there might be nocturnal life in this forest. I think I've found some of it."

"Are you in danger?"

"They look harmless."

They meant more than one creature. T'Pol's instinct to protect her former-captain and friend kicked in. The creatures he discovered could be poisonous or attack him. She grabbed her scanner and phase pistol.

"I'm coming out. Stay where you are." Best not to alarm the creatures with any sudden movements. She heard frantic splashing coming from the stream.

She quickly unzipped the tent and moved towards his location.

"I told you to stay where you were."

Archer pulled his hastily donned boxers up until the waistband rested comfortably. "I didn't see the fireflies as a threat. And I wanted to get decent before you saw me."

Archer putting his modesty before his safety didn't surprise her. She'd seen almost all of his body in decon before, yet he still insisted on covering his body from her view.

"Fireflies?"

"The blue, glowing insects flying around. They lay their eggs in the stream. They remind me of the fireflies that flew around my parent's backyard at night." He pointed to the lights zigzagging through the sky and the clusters of eggs under the water as he spoke.

T'Pol scanned the insects and recorded the data. "Fascinating. The insects' bioluminescent properties are intriguing. What purpose could it serve?"

Archer smiled. The curious scientist was awakened again. "I don't know, but they are beautiful."

Insects swooped in flying around them. T'Pol scanned them. With regularity they flew by Archer. T'Pol watched one slow down. Its body lazily flew up his body lighting a trail up his chest. When it landed on him, she tensed, thinking it might bite him. It quickly flew off joining the other lights dancing in the sky.

Archer bent down. Picking up the rest of his sleep clothes. He dressed while T'Pol continued to scan the insects and silently speculate on their bioluminescence. Archer watched the insects fly about for a few more moments.

"I better start the fire, so I can dry off."

After several failed attempts to light the kindling with the fire starter, the flames caught on and started to rise. Archer moved a rock over to sit near the fire. T'Pol completed her scans of the 'fireflies' and moved another rock over beside him. The clouds were fading from violet to gray as the stars joined the fireflies in illuminating the sky with pinpoints of light

"I don't recognize any of the star patterns. It's hard to locate any familiar stars," he smiled to himself. She recognized that smile. He was remembering happier times, "My father taught me the constellations in the sky. He showed me the stars which he wanted to take me to one day."

He reflected on that memory. Something she'd seen him do many times since the accident. Phlox explained it to her once, 'The Captain's present is fleeting, and his future is nonexistent from his perspective, so the past is his refuge. He thinks of it often remembering what was.'

Archer turned his head to his left looking at her. The light from the fire cast her face in golden tones. The flames reflected in her irises. Archer thought he'd never seen her look more beautiful. The thought saddened him. He couldn't say or do anything. So he watched her, holding the memory for as long as he could.

He sighed. Time for another distraction. "On Vulcan do you have constellations?"

"No."

"How did you learn the stars in the night sky?"

"I memorized star charts as part of my school curriculum. I also observed the night sky."

"With your parents?"

"Alone."

Archer smiled. T'Pol hadn't seen this many smiles from him in a long time. It pleased her to see him happy. It reminded her of a time before the Expanse when they used to talk in his ready room, the captain's mess, or somewhere else private. During those conversations, a smile might break out onto his face or he'd laugh at something one of them said. She valued any opportunity to see that man come out again. He was here tonight like a driven, determined, angry man had never replaced him in the Expanse. She knew he wouldn't be here for long. The pain of a past Archer struggled to accept usually caught up with him and swept his happiness away too soon.

"Why do I sense you snuck out without your parents' permission to watch the stars alone?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. Archer's guesses could be frighteningly accurate sometimes.

"If my parents ordered me not to do something, I would not do it."

Archer softly laughed.

"Is something amusing to you?"

"I wasn't laughing at you. I remember using that same reasoning many times as a kid to justify doing something. Not asking my parents if I could do something, but assuming it was okay to do it since they hadn't said not to do it. My parents would have my hide when they caught me doing whatever scheme I was up to." T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

Archer couldn't believe they both were opening up to each other so much. They should have done this before the accident. His face dropped as he thought that. T'Pol looked at him concerned. He deflected her attention, "So, where did you go when you watched the stars?"

"I exited my room quietly and went to my mother's garden."

"If you did that more than once, wouldn't your parents catch you?"

"I believe my mother may have known. Before my father left on missions for the Vulcan High Command, he would tell me the sector where the mission would be located. He couldn't tell me the nature of the mission or its exact location. I lacked a strong emotional discipline as a child. I was prone to emotionally motivated decisions. After my father left on each mission, I would locate the stars in the sector my father mentioned in the sky. I stopped doing so after my father died on a mission."

Archer's smile faded as T'Pol spoke of her father's death. This was the first time he could remember T'Pol talking about her father other than a comment here and there. From the sound of what she said, they both lost their fathers at a young age.

"Emotionally motivated or not, I understand why you did that. You," he paused thinking of a word that might be the Vulcan equivalent of love, "cared for your father and missed him when went on missions."

T'Pol didn't object to his word choice.

"Do you know where Earth's sun is from here?"

T'Pol scanned the sky through the trees. She pointed to a faint star hanging low over the trees tops, "There."

Archer leaned in close to see where she pointed, "I see it." He turned his face to hers silently thanking her.

Archer picked out Alpha Centauri, Vega, and other stars from their relative position to earth. It was hard to spot some with the naked eye. The lack of light pollution from civilization allowed the sky to be dark enough to see an arm of the Milky Way arc through the sky in all its glory. Millions of stars clustered tightly together merging to form areas of pink, red, white, gray, and black allowing the arm to stand out.

Archer looked down at his hands and back up at the former location of his home. He confessed to her, "Earth really is gone. I wanted it not to be true. I wanted this all to be part of some elaborate deception. A small part of me hoped we'd head back to the ship and the joke would all be on me. Or I'd wake up in sickbay and find all of this was just a vivid dream. But it's not a joke or dream. I'll wake up tomorrow and Earth will still be gone."

"Denial is an understandable reaction to your situation."

T'Pol looked at him with the compassion he'd seen earlier today. She was so selfless with him. He wished he could return the favor and give back something to her. How could he ever repay her for all that she'd done and would do?

"How was your day?"

T'Pol furrowed her brow considering this. Archer almost laughed. When did she start doing that? "We are ahead of schedule. We scanned and collected many plant specimens and seeds. The scans of the flora and fauna of this forest will greatly benefit the colony. Today has been a productive day."

He should have been more specific. "I meant, did you like today? Was this one of the better days… since the accident?"

T'Pol paused considered her answer. This was the first time he'd asked this question. "Yes. This is one of the better days."

"I'm glad today was a good day for you, T'Pol. You deserve only good days."

They looked into each other's eyes for several heartbeats. Archer broke the silence between them, "It was a good day for me, too."

Next to the warmth of the fire, they watched the stars slowly move across the sky. T'Pol didn't suggest they should go to sleep. She knew Archer would rather be here pointing to stars systems they'd been to and talking. The night grew colder, and they reluctantly retired to the tent.

Archer lay in his sleeping bag, looking over at her. "I don't want to go to sleep."

"You are afraid of what will happen?"

"If I go to sleep, I won't remember all that happened today. I don't want to loose today."

"Staying awake will not prevent your memory loss. Being conscious of the memories fading is a disturbing experience for you."

Archer looked vulnerable to her. He knew he couldn't escape his fate.

"I will be here while you sleep, and I will be here when you wake. There is nothing to fear."

Archer stared at her and swallowed summoning his courage, "Thank you… I'll see you in the morning. Good night T'Pol."

"Good night Jonathan."

He closed his eyes. She watched over him as his breathing became slow and rhythmic. In the morning they would begin again. He'd awake and remember nothing of sash-sava like fruit, fireflies, and stargazing. T'Pol closed her eyes, meditating. It was illogical to dwell on things she could not change.


	4. Survival Part 1

Summary: T'Pol's command decisions come back to haunt her. Chapter broke into two parts.

A/N: The Ryan parts were hard to write. I don't like him. His wasn't the only part I had trouble writing. This chapter has other things that were hard to write or things like action that don't show up in my writing that often. Some parts of this chapter may not appeal to everyone. I hope that this chapter is entertaining or at least entertaining in parts to readers. If not, the next chapter will be different than this and more like last chapter.

There are brief descriptions of violence and acts of desperation. A description of the condition mentioned later in this chapter would not be possible without W.J. McGee's 1906 dramatic medical description reprinted in the Summer 1988 edition of Journal of the Southwest.

----

Rumors spread about the colony's resident Vulcan within hours of her arrival. Most of the rumors were short-lived. One was more dangerous than the others. It was mostly true. Whispered from the mouth of one of the colonial leaders it traveled faster than the stench of roofing sealant through the constructions sites, into the crowded ships housing the colonists, over the network water pipes being laid, and to a group of non-descript buildings on the outskirts of the colony. Slipping through the open hanger doors of the scrap yard, it wormed its way through the aisles of beds, lights, toilets, and other items salvaged from the interiors of ships. Next door, it skimmed over the sheets of flexi-glass intended to hug the curves of a greenhouse's structure. In the machine shop, it managed to distract the attention of the men and women shaping and fixing tools and machines away from the noise of the grinding, welding, and shaping of metal. Its last stop was the ship repair hanger near the landing field.

One man heard the news and froze. He finished rebuilding the hard drive of an old two-man asteroid mining craft, and walked over to his supervisor to see if there was more work for the day. With nothing else to do, he headed home. Sparks from welder's torches reattaching a shuttle wing glittered off the gold oval locket around his neck as he left the building. He walked back to his quarters and sank into the bottom bunk. He started thinking about what he could do about the T'Pol problem.

----

Archer stepped outside the tent and padded across rust red sandstone barefoot. He passed a campfire that now was little more than a pile of smoldering ashes on the way to his destination. The only other person in this distant portion of the desert sat cross-legged on the ground wearing a loose shirt and pants. Archer rarely saw T'Pol out-of-uniform and he almost didn't recognize her in the gray twilight before sunrise. Archer walked over to stand beside her. His gaze followed hers out to the vast canyon below them. The questions in his head were forgotten as the beauty of the place overwhelmed him. He sat down beside her on the edge of the canyon rim meditating on the scene with her.

This place reminded him of the Grand Canyon except the fissures, eroded through the rock by the river and the streams that fed it, looked deeper. Layers of red, orange, tan, turquoise, gray, and black alternated through the rocks that towered above the dark recesses of the canyon floor. The sun began to rise above the horizon and shine through gaps in the cottony clouds spotlighting sections of the canyon with soft yellow rays.

Archer looked to his left and watched T'Pol. She continued to meditate on the sunrise. Her eyes and face glowed under the intensifying yellow light. An image of her meditating over a candle flame came to his mind. A breeze picked up strands of her hair and tossed them about. Archer lightly smiled. She looked at peace. She looked beautiful.

T'Pol eyes connected with his and she turned to him. She saw the man he used to be again in the way he looked at her and in the slight upturn of his lips. She was illogically afraid to speak. When she spoke the man who didn't know the pain of Earth's destruction would disappear. She wanted him to be happy today, but knew she couldn't withhold the truth from him.

The questions would come soon enough. The explanations would follow. For now, the need to hold onto the moment gripped both of them. T'Pol blinked when she realized her emotions had overridden her logic. She guided Archer away from the canyon rim and over to sit beside the campfire. Pushing her feelings aside, she told him the story she knew so well.

---

The locket was shipped to me in a box of my mother's possessions after her funeral. I pushed the box to the back of the closet. It gathered dust there for three months before I brought it out and looked through the contents again.

Opening the locket, I saw you, my smiling Tressa. Your porcelain skin and beautiful brown eyes looked back at me my love. Long curly locks of chocolate hair framed your face. Our baby boy smiled back at me from the other side of the locket.

Do you remember how up until he turned one, a lock of hair stuck up from the front of his head like a horn? You nicknamed him baby rhino. That was so long ago. Jacob was nine years old at the time I received the box. You had already moved with Jacob back to Earth six months before then to care for your father. No, I don't blame you for going away. He was slowly wasting away and he needed you. I shoved the box and its contents in the back of my closet and forgot about it for a few years.

Your message came to me several days after Earth's destruction. You looked at the screen beaming. You still looked as beautiful as you did back when I took the pictures in the locket. I knew what you were going to say before you said it. Your skin glowed in that way I hadn't seen in eleven years since you were pregnant with Jacob. I closed my eyes remembering the month we spent together on leave. Yes, I know you weren't more than three months pregnant when the Xindi…

"…I talked with my doctor. She told me I'm carrying a healthy baby girl." Your hands caressed the subtle curve of your belly. Your smile covered your face and echoed in your eyes. You looked so beautiful. So happy, so alive. I miss you so much.

I heard bits and pieces of the rest of the message. I reached out my hand and stroked your face on the screen. Tears spilled from my eyes and slid down my face.

I hung the locket around my neck as a reminder of you, Jacob, and our angel. Inside of it is all that remains of my heart, our family. Two photos entombed in a metal case almost as cold as my heart.

People told me the pain would get better and that the hollowness in my chest would lessen. They lied. Every day it hurts as much as the last. I can't forget. I can't move on. I can't get over it. Like people want me to. You know this.

Now I hear your sweet voice again. Yes, I know I have to hide you from them. They will want to take you away from me. Don't worry. I will never let them tear us apart.

The anger came when you were gone. I was angry at myself for letting you and Jacob stay on Earth after the Xindi probe attacked. I was angry with Starfleet for saying they would protect Earth. I was angry with myself for trusting them. I was angry the most with the Xindi for destroying Earth and everything I cared about.

When the rumors spread about the Vulcan came, I knew I'd found one of the people responsible. Rumor after rumor increased my anger. The latest rumor you wouldn't believe Tressa. How could they allow a captain who intentionally damaged her ship retain command? How could they not punish her now for failing to prevent your death and the deaths of billions? I don't understand how the community leaders could be so blind Tressa. Sometimes I wonder if I am the only one who sees that justice must be done.

The Vulcan needs to pay for not saving Earth and our family. The council would probably just put her in jail, or worse, let her go. She needs to hurt for what she took from us. Don't trouble yourself with this in heaven, my love. I will take care of everything. Give a kiss to Jacob and our angel for me. I will see you before long.

---

"So I guess I finally got to take you camping," Archer smiled at T'Pol. He was attempting to strike up a conversation unrelated to the news she'd dropped on him earlier this morning.

"Camping?" T'Pol asked. Between them the campfire crackled and popped. The waning embers still generated enough heat to ward off the chill of morning.

"When we were hulled up in the catwalk of Enterprise with the rest of the crew, I asked you if you'd ever been camping. You said in a way you had. The kahswan you mentioned sounded very different from camping. This," Archer gestured at their surroundings and at the tent behind them, "is camping."

"Indeed," T'Pol neutrally said as she turned her attention to the campfire. Smoke puffed out of the spout of a shiny metal pot on the campfire. T'Pol picked up the pot and poured the boiling water into two cups and placed tea bags in each.

"Have all the places we've surveyed been like this?"

T'Pol looked around comparing her surroundings with other places they surveyed. A blue-green ribbon of water ran through the distant depths of the canyon. Behind them wind-beaten trees and scraggily bushes clung onto the rusty red rocks.

Animal life was scarce along the canyon rim. A few varieties of lizards hid under the rocks when Archer or T'Pol walked by earlier. Small flightless birds scratched the ground for seeds and insects to feed their young back in their nests burrowed in the sandstone. This place unfortunately had no plant or animal of interest to the colony.

"We have surveyed variety of plant and animal life each as unique as the places they inhabit."

"I wish I could remember those places," Archer whispered. She wished he could too. "How long have we been doing these surveys?"

"Two months, two weeks, and five days," At his astonished look she continued, "We return to the colony in between surveying our designated areas to resupply and turn our findings over for processing."

He chuckled and gave her a small grin. "I can't believe you've survived me this long."

T'Pol raised both eyebrows and asked, "You believe I'm incapable of adapting to living with you?"

"No. I meant I'm not the easiest person to live with. Margaret couldn't stand my bad habits. She wouldn't move in with me. I couldn't blame her. I was a total slob in flight school."

"Margaret?"

Suddenly the glowing red coals mixed among the gray ashes of the dying campfire were very interesting to Archer. He sighed. After all this time, it still hurt to think about her.

"She was someone I was serious about," he moved the conversation back to something more comfortable, "What happened with her isn't important. She wasn't my only girlfriend that didn't like some of my quirks."

T'Pol filed the information about Margaret away. She wanted to know more about this woman who hurt him, but didn't want to urge him to talk about a painful subject.

"What 'quirks' are you speaking of?" T'Pol sipped from her tea.

"I've heard I snore loudly."

T'Pol agreed. His snoring initially interrupted her sleep at night. Over time she grew accustomed to it and it no longer woke her up.

"Even though I try to be neat, I slip up now and then."

Now and then was an understatement. She'd catch him piling his dirty laundry up on his side of the tent almost every day. When she politely pointed it out, he would pack them away. He also had a habit of sometimes talking while he ate.

"I can be real… irritable in the morning some days."

T'Pol noticed this too. She knew when to give him space and allow him to wake up. He wasn't usually rude to her, just not in a good mood. On the rare occasions he was rude to her, he apologized.

"I'm a cover hog and I've been known to roll around in my sleep. But I guess you don't have to worry about that."

She didn't have to deal with him stealing covers, but he did sometimes roll in his sleeping bag over to her side of the tent. His nocturnal antics amused her. She didn't know how he could roll while inside a sleeping bag and on top of that not wake up. Whispering to him to move back to his side of the tent wouldn't work. The first time she tried it he woke up and his eyes widened when he saw her sleeping next to him in a small tent. That was the first day she'd ever told him of recent events at 0500 in the morning. He rolled over to her side of the tent six times since then. She watched his sleeping face inches from her own and watched his breathing. He looked peaceful in his sleep. No hint of the pain he felt each day showed on his face. T'Pol would close her eyes and try to ignore his breath blowing on her lips, cheek, eyelids, or hair.

"I have dealt with many of the things you mentioned. Cohabitating with you has so far been a fascinating experience."

Archer raised his own eyebrows creasing his forehead. He smiled. "I'm afraid to ask what fascinating things you're referring to."

T'Pol opened her mouth to respond. Her communicator chirped interrupting her. T'Pol took it from her belt and opened it.

"Commander Tyler to T'Pol."

"T'Pol here." T'Pol was surprised to hear from Tyler herself. She'd been in contact only with Lt. Nguyen over the past few weeks.

"Are you finished with your survey of site 27Alpha?"

"Yes. I was going to contact you later this morning to inform you we will fly back to the colony today."

"Good. Report to me when you reach the colony. A situation has developed. Tyler out."

After packing up their campsite, they walked the short distance to their shuttlepod. A few hours of flight, and they were back at the colony.

---

I am thankful for the jobs I had before I found the position at Jupiter station. I worked on mining, merchant, and cargo ships learning how to upkeep dozens of different computer systems. One job in particular is proving useful now.

After I graduated from college, I found a position on an old ore cruncher, as the miners called it. We hopped from asteroid to asteroid in the belt between Mars and Jupiter. I kept the ancient Omega 5 computer of the ship and the newer computers on the shuttles running. I also learned a few new things during the year I stayed on that ship. Like how to make explosives. Sometimes conventional explosives are in short supply, and miners can be very resourceful.

An explosive can be made cheaply and concealed in unexpected objects. Care must be taken when making one. That's where a steady hand, a sharp mind, and patience come in hands. Years spent soldering wires to motherboards come in handy here.

I can't lie to you Tressa, as I place the explosive device in this metal box among the computer chips and hardware, I feel pride. Pride not in this weapon, but the justice it will bring for you and all humans.

---

Archer stared in awe of the colony outside of the shuttlepod unaware that he'd done the same thing a few weeks ago. The colony had changed since then. Some of the buildings were finished or near completion. The first houses were under construction. T'Pol guided him through the colony toward the administration building. Along the way Archer noticed people stopping to watch them pass by. Some of them would say something to the person beside them. Others would just stare with barely restrained hostility, disgust, or curiosity. Archer wondered if they were reacting to T'Pol as Vulcan or if there was another reason. Archer soon found out the other reason in Commander Tyler's office.

"T'Pol. Archer. Good to see you well," Tyler answered in a business-like manner.

T'Pol answered Tyler evenly, "It is pleasant to see you again."

"I'll go over your findings and specimens later. I have a more pressing matter to discuss with you. I'm surprised your contact on the council didn't get word to you. During recent remote-conference meetings of the community leader council, you became a topic of discussion."

T'Pol raised her left eyebrow. "I see."

"No, I don't think you do. This is serious, T'Pol. Rumors have been spreading about you. The one about your piloting stunt delaying Enterprise's mission six months caught the attention of colonists and the community leaders."

Archer jumped to her defense, having heard the story himself this morning, "Wait a minute. In that situation any captain might have done the same thing."

"People are looking for someone to blame and punish. The Xindi aren't available, but T'Pol is." Tyler sighed. "Several members of the council pushed for a trial during the meeting."

T'Pol remained silent. Archer didn't. "What? So they want to make T'Pol a scapegoat?"

"In their minds she's guilty of negligent command decisions leading to the Xindi weapon not being destroyed."

Archer leaned forward. His voice betrayed his frustration, "That's crazy. T'Pol didn't launch the weapon. The Xindi did. We need stop this. We need to-"

"Jonathan," T'Pol said stoically place a hand on his forearm.. She continued in a softer voice, "If the colony leaders see fit to hold a trial for my actions as captain, I will not resist."

"I don't think you will have to worry about a trial," Tyler interjected, "The council adjourned for several days then reconvened and reviewed evidence. They saw no reason to for a trial at this time"

Archer looked down sighing then looked up at Tyler. "Why do I get the feeling this won't be the last time T'Pol's command decisions will be discussed by the council."

"My gut tells me the same thing. Unfortunately, some people will not agree with the council's decision. They will attempt to bring more persuasive arguments before the council."

T'Pol pointed out another possibility, "If their attempts fail, those individuals may seek other means of attaining justice."

Archer swallowed thinking of what that meant. He met eyes with T'Pol. Her look tried to reassure him, but he didn't feel better.

"I agree. Your safety may be in jeopardy. I strongly suggest you consider moving back to Enterprise. There is no police force here to insure your safety. That is why I've made a decision I didn't want to make. I'm afraid I have to deny your request to work in one of the greenhouses."

"We will not be moving back to Enterprise. I am aware of the risk involved in working with other colonists and prepared to take that risk in order to contribute to this project."

"I know you're willing to take the risk. But my decision is final. This doesn't mean I'm letting you go. You could still contribute to the success of this project behind the scenes."

T'Pol accepted Tyler's offer, but Archer could see the disappointment on T'Pol's face.

---

How nice of you to come see me this morning. A lot has happened since we spoke last. Yesterday, they left their shuttlepod for repair and resupplying in the hanger I work in and set up camp here by the river. I found them easily this morning and I'm observing them unseen.

The Vulcan takes her human companion out to the camp fire and begins to talk Listen to her tell the man she calls Jonathan the events that happened since his accident. Anger rises inside me with every word she speaks. She speaks so casually like she wasn't at fault. She's an unapologetic killer. I wonder if she tells Jonathan these things to convince herself she's not guilty, or stays with him to repent for the sins she committed against him and humanity. I don't know.

It's obvious to me that she's been around humans too long. Human emotions show up in her. She walks closely to her companion and looks at him in a way that makes me think she has grown attached to him in very un-Vulcan way. How would she feel if she lost him like I lost you? Her Jonathan doesn't shy away from her either. She looks and he looks back. She touches and he touches back.

You already know I've asked you and myself many times if I am capable of killing her. The answer now is still yes. Killing her up close would be dangerous. I don't know much about Vulcans, but I know they are far stronger than humans. Considering all those things, I came up with a plan several days ago. It has more of a chance of succeeding.

Killing her wouldn't be enough. That woman failed to save you, our son, and our angel. I want her to die knowing the person who means the most to her dies with her. They packed up their camp and are leaving on foot. Now it's time to put my plan into action.

---

How many times had he been in here? He didn't know. Maybe T'Pol could tell him later. For now he could only stare up at the ceiling of the imaging chamber. Archer breathed slowly trying to calm his body. The walls of the imaging chamber made him feel claustrophobic. The chamber continued to hum a rhythmless tune as it scanned his body. He heard over the noise Phlox and T'Pol talking but couldn't tell what words they said.

_Jonathan never did like imaging chambers. Not after what happened to him as a kid. When his father was first diagnosed with Clark's syndrome, Starfleet Medical's waiting room became a familiar site to him. He played with the old worn toys while his mother paced, talked to the doctors he called white coats, or distracted herself with a book. Jonathan would tire of waiting sometimes and sneak off when he was supposed to be headed for the restroom. _

_That particular time he decided to track down his father. Earlier that day he watched the nurses guide his father down the hall. Jonathan walked down the hall peaking through windows into the gray rooms and ducking around corners or into an empty room when he saw a white coat or scrubs coming. _

_He almost passed by the room. He looked away from the window then paused and looked back. His father lay on a medical bed while the white coats buzzing around him scanned his body with various types of medical equipment. Henry's usual clothing hid his deterioration well. The short-sleeved hospital gown hung on him like a potato sack showing his skin and shriveled muscles clinging to his bones. Jonathan could only see the left side of his father's face from his window. Henry's face seemed ancient. Jonathan wondered how long the hollows worn in his father's cheek or the wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes and creasing his forehead had been there. Henry turned toward him and looked directly into his eyes. The white coats didn't follow Henry's gaze. Henry looked at him, his eyes devoid of recognition. Then he turned his head back to look up at the ceiling. One of the white coats pushed a button and the imaging chamber sucked his father's body inside of its tube. The rhythmless clicks and hums began and a blue light glowed from the entrance of the imaging chamber. Jonathan watched until his father emerged from the tube. _

_His mother didn't ask where he'd been, and he didn't tell her. He crossed the waiting room and stared out the waiting room windows at the cars flying between the skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco. He felt like something had been ripped from inside him and an empty space left in its place. Until that moment he held out hope. Jonathan's jaw tightened and his eyes filled with moisture. His father was dying and he could do nothing about it. _

'Dad, I thought I understood back then what you were going through. I was glad when you couldn't remember who you once were and how much you lost. Now I think I know some of what you experienced. I can't lead or be there for my family, my crew. A part of me is gone, and what is left is waiting around until my memory goes away again. Maybe I'm lucky not to remember some things, but I want to remember my life. I want to remember what has happened to my crew. I want to remember the time I've shared with T'Pol. I want to live life for more than one day at a time. I want all the things I can never have again.'

"T'Pol, you should consider the possibility that there may not be a cure for his condition for years, if ever."

T'Pol looked over Phlox's shoulder at the sparse interior of the colony's temporary hospital thinking. She looked at Phlox's face and stoically told him, "I assure you Doctor I have considered that possibility among others."

He didn't look convinced. "There's nothing more I can do for him at this time. As soon as the hospital is in working order, I will travel back to Denobula and consult with colleagues of mine."

The humming of the imaging chamber stopped and the blue glow shut off. Archer let go of a held breath as the biobed rolled out of the imaging chamber. Phlox appeared on his right and T'Pol on his left as he came to a stop.

"So, how did it go?" He could tell from the look on Phlox's face what the answer was, but he asked anyway to break the silence in the room.

Archer pushed himself up to sit. T'Pol's arm instinctively came up to help him. T'Pol blinked and froze with her arm hovering in midair. Her arm fell back to her side. Archer furrowed his brow as he wondered what that was all about.

"I'm sorry. The localized radiation treatment was unsuccessful. The parasites appear unaffected."

Archer smiled to reassure him. "It's okay Doc. You couldn't know until you tried."

Phlox scanned him. "You have no abnormal readings. T'Pol, let me know if he has any out of the ordinary symptoms."

"What kind of symptoms?" Archer asked.

"Hair falling out, skin glowing in the dark, growing extra appendages, or other symptoms."

"You're joking right?"

"Yes," the corners of his smile almost touched his eyes, "Should any unusual symptoms occur please contact me immediately. I want to see you both again after your survey mission."

---

"My brother admired both of you. I spoke on your behalf at the council because he would have wanted me too," Paul Mayweather said. Paul sat behind a desk in the cramped captain's ready room he rarely used. On the other side of the desk sat Archer and T'Pol.

Archer believed that Paul did things for them because of his brother and perhaps at his mother's insistence. Paul was being diplomatic with them and not showing emotions for them one way or another.

"I thank you for doing so," T'Pol told him.

"I'm sorry I can't help you this time. The Horizon's crew quarters are filled to triple capacity. All the other ships I know of are in the same situation."

"That's understandable. Thank you for everything you've done," Archer said when he saw a flicker of disappointment cross T'Pol's face.

"We're putting two of the protein resequencers that Ambassador Soval supplied the convoy to good use in the mess hall. You're welcome to eat here any time."

They took him up on his offer and ate their mid-day meal among the Horizon's crew. No one bothered them other than the occasional stare. After they ate they headed back to their shuttlepod. T'Pol double-checked their supply list while Archer made preparations to lift off.

---

_As I write this I know some people will not understand my actions. _

_I can no longer stand by and watch this killer walk free. I do this not just for my wife and kids but for the others she hurt. She knowingly disabled her ship and prevented it from stopping the weapon that took my wife and our children from me along with millions of other lives. There is no one to give her justice but me. _

_I will give her a just and right punishment. Taking from her what she took from so many - their lives._

_I will join my wife and our children soon. Then I will be able to meet my angel and kiss her on her head._

---

"Where are we going this time?"

"We are headed to an extinct volcano approximately 1027 kilometers away. Orbital scans of the volcano showed a high concentration of plant and animal life inside of the volcano's crater."

"Sounds interesting." Archer hoped the place would have less humidity and heat than the colony. "Will we reach it today?"

T'Pol kept her eyes on the controls and said, "Yes."

The shuttlepod suddenly changed heading and increased speed. All the control panel lights went dead.

"T'Pol, what just happened?"

"The shuttle has changed course and speed without my authorization," T'Pol said as she unbuckled her seat belt and moved to another console in the shuttlepod. She removed a panel underneath it and looked inside at the computer chips and wires. "Someone has tampered with the navigation controls. They've tied a device into the controls."

Archer quickly came over to see the metal box attached with wires to the controls. "Do you think it's safe to remove it?"

"Unknown." T'Pol retrieved her scanner from her backpack nearby and came back to scan the box "This device is portable hard drive designed to feed a program into the computer. It is currently not transmitting data to the computer but it is receiving data. All computer functions except propulsion and navigation are down. Life support is down. I recommend we wear oxygen rebreather masks."

Archer nodded agreement and opened an overhead panel and retrieved two masks. Without hesitation he strapped the facemask over his nose and mouth. A single barrel-shaped tank protruded from the mouth area scrubbing the carbon dioxide he exhaled and providing him clean oxygen to inhale. Straps he slipped around his head elastically adjusted to his head. The masks had become standard issue shortly after Reed and Trip's experience in shuttlepod one. He silently thanked Starfleet for stocking them in all the shuttlepods.

Archer's muffled voice asked through the intercom in the mask, "Can we remove it?"

Their breathing against the intercom sounded like wind whipping past their ears. T'Pol punched a few buttons and read the readings on her scanner, "I would not recommend it. The device appears to have explosive components."

T'Pol scanned different areas of the shuttlepod controls, "I am unable to access the controls of the computer. Whoever programmed this program designed it to lock out all means of overriding the programming manually."

"What can we do?"

"Tampering with the device will lead to the destruction of the navigational controls. Rebooting the computer will not solve the problem-"

"We're descending." Archer looked out the shuttlepod's viewscreen. A vibrant body of blue-green water loomed larger and larger. "T'Pol, get back to your seat now!"

They both scrambled to the seats behind the pilot and co-pilot seats and strapped themselves in. Beneath his feet the shuttlepod shook violently.

Archer reached out to T'Pol and grabbed her hand squeezing it tightly. He looked in her eyes seeing fear mirrored in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him and how much he cared for her. But there wasn't time. The fear disappeared from T'Pol's face. Archer felt warmth radiating from T'Pol's hand up his arm and permeating throughout his mind. Her strength was his. His strength was hers. He looked out at the water unafraid.

The pod punched through the water slamming Archer's head back into his headrest knocking his breath out. Seconds later, the nose of the shuttlepod skidded through the sand until it hit something and came to a stop. An audible crunch and the screeching of metal were followed by the sudden loss of all power in the shuttle. Even the emergency lights failed shrouding them in darkness. Crates of supplies and their backpacks were launched forward through the air. A small object hit Archer's arm ripping his hand from T'Pol's.

The creaks and groans of the shuttlepod were joined by glass shattering and water rushing inside the shuttle. Archer closed his eyes seconds before the water hit. Small pieces of safety glass propelled by water embedded in his hands and face. Water filled the shuttlepod as the shuttlepod bounced back from the force of the impact and settled into the sand.

"Jonathan," more urgently T'Pol's voice called for him, "Jonathan."

Archer breathed a sigh of relief. They were still alive. "I'm here. Are you okay?"

"I am. Are you?"

"I think so. We need to get out of here. I can't see you. Unbuckle your seatbelt. I'll swim over towards you."

He swam blindly through floating debris and sand. The shuttlepod creaked ominously like it would collapse at any moment. Archer felt around with his hand until he touched T'Pol's shoulder. Her hand came up and captured his.

T'Pol floated up to swim beside him. "From the trajectory of the shuttlepod during impact and the positioning of the crates I believe I can find our backpacks."

"Okay, but make it quick. I think the shuttle could implode at any time."

T'Pol kicked and sent them swimming down to the floor of the shuttlepod. They quickly felt around with one hand while holding hands with the other.

"I found one," T'Pol said.

Archer found the other backpack but it was wedged under the pilot's console and a crate. He pushed the crate away and held on tight to the handle of the pack. "I've got the other."

A support brace from the wall of the pod collapsed behind them displacing enough water to push them forward a few feet.

"I think that's our signal to go. I'll swim out backwards. Swim after me and try to keep hold of my hand."

They swam side by side quickly distancing themselves from the shuttlepod. The water pressure at that depth proved safe for humans and Vulcans. On their way up to the surface, Archer noticed the water seemed hard to swim through. He knew this was because of the high salt concentration of the water. He swam towards the light filtering through the sand stirred up by the crash.

Their heads bobbed up above the surface of the water. A shockwave several feet tall crashed into them. Archer looked at T'Pol knowing the shuttlepod just imploded.

---

Reed pulled back the white sheet covering the body. Lifeless blue eyes stared up at him. Bloodless white skin contrasted with the man's dark brown hair and the ligature marks around his neck. There was something about the man that seemed off. Reed called it the crazy vibe. He could feel something was not quite right in this man's head.

Reed looked up at Dr. Phlox who wore a medical apron sporting blood spatters from the man on the table. "Have you finished your autopsy?"

"Yes. Cause of death is that his heart stopped beating." Reed looked up at Phlox questioningly, "You can see the marks here from the computer cable he used to hang himself. The cable put pressure on his carotid bodies. The carotid bodies are a peculiar feature of the human body. They sense increases in blood pressure and send signals to slow the heart rate down. In some cases strong pressure on the carotid bodies can cause the heart to completely stop as in Mr. Calvert's case. He only suffered from lack of oxygen for a few minutes before his heart stopped."

That was better than the man deserved, Reed thought. "That explains why his skin isn't blue. Tell me about what happened after you arrived at Calvert's quarters."

"His roommate, Landon Kuykendall, told me when I arrived that he found him the next morning after his shift ended. He used the ship's comm. to alert the communications officer who in turn summoned the hospital. I arrived with several nurses, but he'd been deceased for over six hours. Before leaving the quarters, I noticed an active file on the computer. It was a suicide note. I made sure not to touch the computer."

"Good. Thank you for having the Constellation's captain seal his quarters off until I arrived."

"Is there still no word from them?"

Reed sighed and looked down, "No. Hoshi is still trying to raise them. I've detected no sign of them or their sensor sweeps. Captain Tucker consulted with Commander Tyler and located an area along their route where sensors are scrambled by mineral deposits. Commander Tyler showed us sensor modifications that only work for short range scans. A group of shuttles are searching for signs of wreckage or survivors. The search area is larger than the Sahara desert. It could take days or weeks to find them."

"Did Archer and T'Pol's shuttlepod have these sensor modifications?" Phlox asked.

"Tyler said it did." Reed turned away from Calvert's body. "I'll keep you informed of the progress of the search. I should return to Enterprise."

"Let me know if there is anyway I can help," Phlox added as he pulled the sheet back over Calvert's face and pushed him into a stasis drawer.

"Oh, Mr. Reed. Only one personal item was recovered from Mr. Calvert's body. It may be of interest to you." Phlox walked over to a nearby cart and picked up a gold chain and locket from a steel dish passing it between his and Reed's gloved hands.

Reed opened the locket and looked over the two faded pictures inside. His eyes caught a bulge behind the picture of the boy. Removing the picture, he uncovered a micro data disk. He thought to himself, 'What would be so important that he would keep it with him at all times?'

---

Archer leaned back and effortlessly floated in the water. T'Pol followed suit. She'd never floated in water before. The salt content of the water held her buoyant. The backpack in her hand wouldn't float.

"Maybe we should try swimming with these on our backs," Archer suggested. He swam in place pulling the shoulder straps on and buckling the waist strap. T'Pol did the same.

Archer pushed the rebreathing mask back on the top of his head. Archer looked around at their surroundings. They were body of salt water. Blue green algae thrived on the water's surface giving it its color. Archer doubted anything else could live in the high concentration of salt water. Surrounding the lake was a dry desert plain covered in a layer of white salt crystals. Several mountain ranges surrounded them. The closest one looked like it could be several days journey away. He could be wrong. Distances in the desert could be deceiving. White sand dunes rose from the salt plain next to those mountains. He'd rather go in another direct to avoid crossing them.

"Looks like we've landed in a salt lake," Archer said.

"Yes." T'Pol looked up at the position of the sun in the sky. "I recommend we begin swimming to the nearest shore. We have approximately three hours of day light."

Within in an hour Archer's arm muscles were burning. Looking at his muscle tone, he could tell he wasn't out of shape. The water his arms sliced through felt like thick soup. Desert blew through his hair. He didn't look forward to walking through a desert in the daytime. The temperature felt like baking inside of an oven.

After hours of fighting against the water to swim, Archer's boots sank down into the sand at the bottom of the lake. He walked through the last few feet of water weakly putting one aching leg in front of another. T'Pol already crouched on the shore in dry salt coated sand mentally taking inventory of the useable contents of her backpack as she sorted through it. Archer joined her slipping his backpack off his shoulders.

T'Pol looked over the cuts on his face and hands. Worry plain in her eyes. She retrieved the medical kit from her backpack and found a pair of tweezers.

"Hold still."

A breath hissed out of his lips as she plucked a shard of glass lodged above his eyebrow. The sting of salt water penetrated the wound. Blood soaked pieces of glass dropped down to join the large grains of salt on the ground. T'Pol waved a device over his head and hand cleaning and sealing the wounds. She placed the device back in the med kit and started to close it.

"Wait," Archer said placing a hand on T'Pol's chin and turning her face towards him. Green soaked shards of glass soon joined the red ones among the white salt covering the ground.

The situation wasn't good. Virtually everything in Archer's backpack was destroyed when it smashed between the shuttle and crate. In T'Pol's backpack they found enough water for one person to drink over one or two days walking in the desert heat. Their food rations were also low, but that didn't matter. Water was used during digestion of food. They could go for weeks without food, and only days without water. Several changes of Archer's clothing were packed in the bottom of the bag. Archer set aside a shirt to make a makeshift hat.

T'Pol took a handful of plastic specimen bags out of the front pocket of her backpack. Archer saw them and gently stilled her hand looking at them. He let go of her hand. "I think we should take those."

"Why?"

"I learned an old trick of how to gather water from plant respiration as an Eagle Scout. I found it more reliable and less labor intensive than solar stills."

"A scientifically sound 'trick'. I will remind you of these bags if we encounter any vegetation." T'Pol placed the bags back in the pocket.

T'Pol pulled her scanner from the front pocket and scanned around them. "Something is blocking my signals."

"What is it?"

"I have heard of this phenomenon before. Several desert areas on this planet are null to sensor readings. A mineral in the sand itself blocks sensor scans."

"So you know where we might be?"

"Yes. A mining survey team encountered a large expanse of desert that blocked sensor readings. The lakes and mountains fit with the topography of the area. It would also correspond with the direction our shuttle traveled." Archer saw T'Pol's eyebrows knit together below wet strands of hair plastered on her forehead.

"I get the feeling that this isn't good news."

"The mining survey team recorded that the phenomenon covered an area approximately 5,000 kilometers from north to south and 14,000 kilometers from east to west. A scientific team was dispatched to study the phenomenon. They were able to modify their sensors to work limited within a range of 200 kilometers. Ships in orbit are still unable to scan do to the interference."

"It would take a rescue team quite a while to scan an area like that from a shuttlepod. Where exactly do you think we are in that area?"

"There is only one location on the maps I've seen that fits this description." T'Pol pictured the map in her mind. They would need to travel east over a set of mountains. "The colony is east…She looked around and found the closest mountain range. She pointed towards it. "…beyond those sand dunes and mountain range."

"How many days do you think it will take to get back to the colony?"

"I am uncertain. I believe it will take more than twelve days. Approximately eight of those days our bioreadings will be affected by the mineral deposits of this region."

Archer had a flashback to his Starfleet survival training in the Australian outback. That was two weeks this was only twelve days. He could do this. Then he realized the difference between that experience and this. Starfleet provided them with sweat recyclers and other survival gear. He had no doubt T'Pol could survive in this. She told him once she'd survived ten days alone in the desert as a part of a childhood ritual. If he died, he hoped T'Pol survived. He wasn't giving up yet. He would fight to stay alive and show the person who sabotaged their shuttlepod that they hadn't succeeded.

After splitting the meager supplies between their two backpacks, they prepared for walking through the desert. Both tied the bottoms of their pants tight to prevent insects from crawling up their legs. Archer tore a t-shirt apart and wrapped the fabric around his head fashioning a turban. The end piece of the fabric dipped down to cover his mouth and nose and tucked in the other side of the turban.

T'Pol looked at his hat curiously raising an eyebrow. She walked over to him and adjusted the fabric then nodded approvingly. Archer looked into her eyes.

"You aren't wearing any protection from the sun," he said breaking the tension hanging in the air between their locked eyes. Each word he spoke puffed air through the cloth covering his mouth making it rise and fall.

T'Pol explained, "My people evolved on a desert planet. Our bodies adapted to the conditions. The sunlight will not burn my skin as fast as it will yours. My inner eyelids will protect my eyes from the sunlight. I will not need water for several days."

Over the years, Archer learned more about what being Vulcan meant. Even though he'd learned so much, T'Pol still managed to reveal things about her people and herself that he didn't know.

"I wouldn't mind having some of those adaptations right now." He half-smiled beneath the cloth. Who would have thought that he would ever want to have Vulcan traits?

"Are you ready to leave?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes."

"We should begin our journey."

---

Before the end of the day, posters filled the colony displaying Ryan Calvert's face. The bold words at the top saying "Have you talked to this man?" and below the picture, "Your information could save two lives. Please contact a community leader, member of Starfleet, or comm. frequency 4793 beta. Full anonymity and immunity from prosecution will be granted to anyone who comes forward."

Meanwhile, in the Situation Room aboard Enterprise, Reed presented his findings to Captain Tucker and the senior staff, "Ryan Calvert. Age 37. He met and married Tressa Petrovich in college. They had one son, Jacob. He became a computer repair specialist stationed at Jupiter Station for 6 years until the Xindi attack. Then he worked in the colony's ship repair facilities. He was a civilian worker cleared to work on civilian as well as Starfleet computers."

Reed held up the micro data disc. "I found this in a locket Calvert wore around his neck. It contains the last message Tressa sent to him before Earth was destroyed. She'd moved back to Earth to take care of her ailing father several years prior to that and he visited her and their child on his shore leaves. She called to tell him that she was pregnant with another child, a girl. It also contains another file containing a sophisticated encrypted computer program and notes on the computer configuration of shuttlepods composed by Calvert. Since we haven't heard from Archer and T'Pol, I think we can safely assume this program was implemented on their shuttle and at least partially successful. I found no other items of use in his quarters or computer. That's all we know so far."

Trip spoke up, "I want a team of people to get right on decrypting that program. Sanchez, I want you to talk to the other pilots onboard. Choose as many as we can spare to fly over the search area. Report back to me with your list. Everyone else, help out where you can. Dismissed."

Reed crossed over to Trip, "Sir, I request permission to head back to the surface. I want to interview people who knew Calvert."

"Permission granted." Trip audibly sighed. They had several places to look for clues. All he could do was wait.


	5. Survival Part 2

Summary: Archer and T'Pol try to survive in the desert. T'Pol goes to great lengths to keep Archer alive.

A/N: (Same as the first part of this chapter.) The Ryan parts were hard to write. I don't like him. His wasn't the only part I had trouble writing. This chapter has other things that were hard to write or things like action that don't show up in my writing that often. Some parts of this chapter may not appeal to everyone. I hope that this chapter is entertaining or at least entertaining in parts to readers. If not, the next chapter will be different than this and more like last chapter.

There are brief descriptions of violence and acts of desperation. A description of the condition mentioned later in this chapter would not be possible without W.J. McGee's 1906 dramatic medical description reprinted in the Summer 1988 edition of Journal of the Southwest.

---

The sound of boots crunching through salt filled the rest of the afternoon. Archer barely kept pace with T'Pol. She walked with the same ease she would aboard Enterprise- her posture perfect and no trace of sweat or fatigue on her skin.

Archer wished he felt as good as she looked. The afternoon sun was beginning to dry his clothes and skin. The sun also glared into his eyes despite adjusting his turban. Ripping a strip of cloth from his turban, he cut to eye slits and put it on. If only his other problems could be solved with a piece of cloth. Salt coated his skin and cut into it with each movement of his arms or legs. Underneath his clothes the salt caused friction in other places. Archer daydreamed of rinsing the salt off under the portable camping shower he'd seen in the crates of supplies before they took off. Too bad they didn't have it. A cold shower would feel good right about now.

Loose pants and long sleeves protected his arms and legs. Dry heat that he estimated soared over 115 degrees made his skin feel hot as if sunburned and slick with perspiration despite the protection. Flying insects buzzed around him searching for moisture. He gave up a long time ago the never-ending battle to shue them away. The little black ones crawled in his nose and ears looking for moisture. The red ones, the ones he hated the most, flew in silently landing on his skin and puncturing it with a horn shaped proboscis to feed on his blood. They were too fast for him to swat before they were off again to join the cloud of insects following their walking buffet. The small red welts on his hands and face itched. What he wouldn't give for insect repellant. Archer stopped himself. He was mentally complaining about his situation. He tried to think of other things.

T'Pol did feel as good as she looked. The air caressing her skin and ruffling her hair was neither too hot nor too cold. She walked effortlessly. The movement and her surroundings stilled her mind in a way similar to meditation. T'Pol's inner eyelids protected her vision deadening the glared and allowing her to take in the beauty of the plain. The stark white of salt coating the sand contrasted with the light blue sky in a way T'Pol found aesthetically pleasing. She inhaled the smell of salt in the air. Her eyes briefly closed and memories of Vulcan surfaced.

T'Les knelt beside her on a salt plain nearby their home. Her mother showed her how to carefully dig through the crust of salt. T'Pol's hand trowel hit a solid object. With a gloved hand, she exposed the clump of interconnected crystals larger than her small hand. Each of the clear crystals encased the sand in a pattern humans would call an hourglass. T'Pol's eyes widened. She considered the geological forces that created the crystals. The crystals joined the other rocks lying on a shelf in T'Pol's room, logically for further study.

T'Pol brought her thoughts back to their situation and began planning for the days ahead.

The cloudless day made way to a cold night as the heat rapidly escaped the atmosphere. Archer need to rest a few hours, so they unpacked some of his clothes and made a makeshift bed. The sharp edges of the salt crystals still poked into their skin through their bedding. Archer didn't care. He collapsed down onto the bed grateful to be off his feet. He removed his turban and makeshift sunglasses from his head. T'Pol lay down close to him but not touching. They pulled the emergency blanket from their first aid kit over their bodies. It would reflect some of their body heat back to them.

"It's only going to get colder. We need to conserve body heat. I know you don't like touching other people, but it's the best way to transfer body heat."

T'Pol nodded her consent and felt a hand snake around her waist pulling her to spoon against his chest. The smell of Archer surrounded her. His familiar and comforting scent was tainted by the pungent stink of salty sweat. His chin rested against the top of her head and she felt his breath gently rustling through her hair. His heart beat against her back reminded her that he was still alive. She relaxed against him and looked up at the stars twinkling above them.

"T'Pol, who do you think sabotaged the shuttlepod?" His chest rumbled as he whispered. She empathically sensed emotions from him. Anger, worry, fear.

"I don't know. I suspect there are few people in the colony with the skills to program a computer program capable of overriding a Starfleet shuttle's navigation controls."

"Do you think it could be a Starfleet officer?"

"It is a possibility. A computer specialist who worked with Starfleet ships or shuttlepods in the past would have the necessary knowledge."

"I don't like not knowing who did this. If we are rescued or reach the colony, that person could try to hurt us again. I want you to promise me something T'Pol."

"I cannot promise you without knowing what it is I am promising."

"Promise me you will take us back to Enterprise if the person who sabotaged the shuttle isn't caught. I don't want you to live in fear not knowing if or when they will strike again."

T'Pol thought over his request. His logic was sound. "I promise you."

Archer let out a sigh. "Thank you."

"There's something else I need to talk with you about. You need to know what to expect."

"What are you referring to?"

"I've already started feeling the effects of dehydration today. I sweat more water than I take in. I've been dehydrated in the desert before with Trip. This situation could get worse than that. I could get irritable, argumentative, or hallucinate. I may even try to strip naked."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at his last statement. "I will watch you carefully for these symptoms."

"Those symptoms may or may not happen. I've seen lack of water make men and women do strange things. Someone in my survival training team in Australia thought the kangaroos conspired against us to hide sources of water."

"A very irrational assumption."

"Yes, he was suffering from heat exhaustion. When we followed a group of kangaroos to muddy water hole, he stopped believing that."

The silence of the night fell around them. "I better get some sleep. Goodnight T'Pol."

"Goodnight Jonathan."

Even though he'd survived in a desert several times T'Pol worried about him now. If they could find no other viable source of water, she would watch him die of thirst. T'Pol closed her eyes and told herself dwelling on possible negative outcomes was illogical. The rhythmic sound of Archer snoring interrupted her thoughts. She'd give him three hours to sleep before they began walking towards the mountains again.

---

Trip collapsed into the chair in the captain's ready room. After all this time, he still thought of this room as not his office. In his mind 'acting' was understood before the title of captain, and he was just warming the big chair until Phlox cured Jon.

Running his hands down his face, he wondered if it was time to stop believing he was just a place holder. He was captain of this ship, and Jon and T'Pol might never come back to Enterprise alive.

He sighed and left the ready room, handing the bridge over to Travis. Minutes later, he sat in the captain's mess with comfort food: a glass of root beer and a slice of pecan pie.

The door opened when he was half-way through the slice of pie.

"I thought you might like some company, sir," Reed said waiting for permission to join him.

"I'm off-duty Malcolm. Call me Trip." Reed stood still not moving from the doorway. "Don't just stand there. Take a seat."

Reed took the seat next to him. He noted that Trip was sitting in the seat near the window. The one he'd seen Trip sitting in on the rare occasions he dined in the captain's mess with Trip, Archer, and T'Pol.

"You're leaving for the surface in an hour. I thought you'd be preparing for that," Trip commented while chewing.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Reed's usual all business tone gave way to the more relaxed one he used with his friend.

Trip frowned then took a gulp of root beer. "I'm fine."

"No offense, but you don't look it. The crew has been taking this hard, but you knew them both better than any of us."

"What do you want me to say Malcolm? That I'm worried about them. You know I am. I want to be down there right now searching for them. I'd comb the desert with my bare hands if it would help find them. But I'm stuck up here being Captain because my first officer says the Captain shouldn't be flying in potentially hazardous conditions."

"Sandstorms can happen without warning in the desert. It's safer for you to remain here and help coordinate efforts with the surface."

"Why do you get to have all the fun?" Trip asked with a weak smile.

"It's one of the privileges of being a first officer."

Trip silently ate two forkfuls of pie.

"I'll find them, sir," Reed reassured him.

"I know you will, Malcolm." Silently Trip added, 'I just hope you find them in time.'

---

"You haven't drunk anything in three days. I won't drink unless you share it with me."

T'Pol looked over him in the dim glow of starlight. The desert was slowly claiming him. His hands were chapped by sunburn. The skin around his eyes and on his forehead was the same shade of red. Peaking out from beneath the cloth covering his nose and mouth was the beginnings of a beard peppered with newly grown gray. Eyes, which were watering, stared back at her.

Today was the beginning of their third day in the desert. Archer's hand offered her the last water pouch holding barely a cup of water. T'Pol pleaded with her eyes for Archer not to make her drink any water despite her own thirst.

"I can survive for several days without water."

"From what you told me this morning we've already been out here several days. Knowing you, you haven't drank anything during that time."

T'Pol responded to him only with silence.

"Fine, neither of us will drink it." Archer opened the cap and tilted the pouch ready to pour the water onto the sand.

"I will drink with you," T'Pol conceded.

Archer weakly smiled. His gravely voice spoke, "Good." He drank half of the water.

His lips pressed together and opened only to press together again. "I want to say some things before we start walking again. You are long overdue for several apologies from me."

"That doesn't matter now."

"It does to me. I need to say this to you."

"Continue."

"If one of us doesn't make it through this, I want you to know…" He couldn't tell her what he really felt. If they lived, she would carry what he said with her each day. He told her something close to it, "I care for you." _I love you. _"I haven't always treated you with the utmost respect, and I apologize for that. You've done so much for me as a first officer and friend, more than I can ever repay you." _I wish I could tell you and show you how much you mean to me. _"When you came aboard, I never imagined that you would become one of my closest friends." _I never imagined you would come to mean more to me than a friend._ "Now I can't imagine my life without you."

T'Pol's eyes looked suddenly moist to him. She took the pouch from him and drank the last of their water. "I have come to care for you as well. I consider you my t'hy'la, life friend." She wouldn't admit to him or herself that he fit another meaning of the word in her mind- life companion. The lines around Archer's eyes crinkled. She could tell he was smiling beneath the dusty cloth covering his mouth. "Jonathan, we will make it through this together."

"Don't try to sugar coat the situation T'Pol. I know what will happen if we don't find water or get rescued soon. My body is leaching water from itself. My head and neck have throbbed since I woke up this morning. I could go on, but we both know I'm not in good shape."

"If you give up hope, the desert has already claimed your life."

"I know. I still have hope. I'm just being realistic."

"We are still alive. And I will endeavor to keep us that way as long as Vulcanly possible."

The skin around Archer's eyes crinkled as he coughed out a laugh. "I know you will. We're both too stubborn to die."

---

Tonight he would wake up and ask her for water, and for the first time she'd have to tell him there was none. Today, they'd gathered and drank their own urine in the hopes of staying alive for a while longer. Without water they would die in a matter of days.

T'Pol held Archer's unconscious shaking body tightly to her. Absently she smoothed the hair on his head noticing the new gray wiry hairs sprouting among his dirty, sweat-soaked locks. She closed her eyes wishing to dream of the lush meadow of grass and him. Darkness came to her instead. Filling the void where dreams or her meditation space should be.

Two hours later, their boots crunched through the last patch of salt encrusted soil and sunk a few inches into the base of a sand dune.

Archer followed closely behind T'Pol. In the dark night with only the stars to light their way, he couldn't see her clearly more than a few feet away. He walked along the crest of the dune in her footsteps.

She was the only one carrying a backpack now. She'd packed the contents of his pack into hers and left the other one to be covered by the sand. When he woke up, she told him they only had one backpack. It was a lie, but one she was willing to tell. Archer didn't have the strength to carry a load on his back.

"How far are we away from the mountains?" Archer asked.

"I estimate we will reach them in two or three days."

Silence fell between them again for several hours.

"I can't take this silence anymore."

"Talking wastes energy and water."

"I know it does. But my head is pounding and it's hard to think straight. I need to talk or listen to something."

T'Pol noted Archer seemed more agitated than he was earlier today. She remembered Archer told her he might experience this emotion.

"My body conserves water better than yours it is more logical for me to talk than you. What would you like me to tell you about?"

"Anything. I don't know."

She thought for several steps.

"I told you once that when I was a child I survived in the desert for ten days during the

kahswan ritual. The desert had some similarities to this one: large sand dunes, flat plains, and mountainous regions. There were also difference, the lack of a salt lake or plain, and perhaps more sources of food and water."

Archer interrupted her story, "How old were you then?"

"I was six years old."

"That's awfully young to undergo a rite of passage."

"The kahswan is completed before a Vulcan child reaches the time of bonding. It would be illogical to bond a child only to have them parish in the kahswan."

"Oh."

She continued her story explaining how she was sent alone into the desert without food, water, or a weapon. Water was difficult to find in the desert. She resorted to turning over rocks in the morning to gather dew. She also gathering certain succulents her father told her about and chewed on their moisture filled leaves. Her journey through the desert was uneventful until the fifth day.

A long mane of hair blew out from beneath the hood of T'Pol's cape. She'd given up several nights ago on keeping her hair in its usual perfectly braided style and now let it hang straight.

She was hungry and need something to drink. Seeing a valit crawling outside of its burrow, she contemplated killing it for its blood and flesh. She stood still thinking as she stared at the reptile walk across the sand on the twenty-six pairs of legs sticking out below the scaled segments of its three-foot long body. Sensing someone approaching, it scurried back into its hole.

T'Pol had never eaten meat and the idea was not appealing. The hollowness of her stomach and dryness in her throat and mouth steered her towards this desperate act. She scoured the area and found two rocks geologically suitable for her needs. Crouching on the ground, she chipped off shards of rock until she found one the right shape. A scrap of cloth wrapped around the blunt end of the shard made an adequate grip. Hand griping her dagger she shimmied over near the hole on her stomach and crouched by it waiting for the valit to emerge.

When the valit emerged, T'Pol pounced on it trying to plunge her blade between the segments. It whipped back its powerful body and threw her to the ground. Angry high pitched clicks emerged from it. T'Pol blocked the valit's burrow so the creature rolled up into a ball. Scales protected its vulnerable underbelly from her blade. T'Pol sat stunned on the ground. Her face, hair, tan pants, shirt and cape carefully hand-embroidered with her clan name by her mother, all covered in red sand.

Slowly breathing in and out, she calmed herself and thought of what to try next. The valit's muscles were strong so prying it open was not an option. T'Pol walked around the giant ball looking for weaknesses. Sensing her movements the valit wound tighter.

She looked at the valit then its burrow and back again. Inspiration struck. Quickly she rolled the valit over to its burrow lodging it in the opening. Grabbing a nearby rock she raised it over her head and came down hard on the tail section of the creature wrapped around the rest of its body. Two of the scales shattered causing the valit to loudly screech.

T'Pol plunged her blade into the flesh exposed beneath the scales. Deep green blood oozed from the wound when she pulled out her blade. The valit unwound trying to turn over and defend itself. Slashing through its pale underbelly, T'Pol's blade punctured the heart of the valit. Blood sprayed by the creature's final heartbeats splattered on her face and clothing.

Gripping her blade tight, the skin of her palm cut open despite the cloth she wrapped around the blade. Her blood mingled with that of her victim. Or should she say victims. Judging from the pouch on the valit's abdomen, she was female and carrying live young inside her pouch. T'Pol peeked inside of the pouch. Eight white valits only a few days old sucked on nourishment from their mother.

Nausea overcame T'Pol. She stumbled back from the carcass shaking her head. She'd been able to rationalize killing the animal for food when she told herself it was only one life. Now she was responsible for nine deaths. She didn't deserve to live. She took lives to save her own. It didn't matter if they weren't sentient lives. Her mother and father would see the blood on her clothing and know. They would see her for the undisciplined creature she'd become.

The words of Surak echoed in her head. "As far as possible, do not kill. Can you return life to what you kill? Then be slow to take life."

T'Pol hugged her legs to her chest and shed water for the valit, its children, and herself. Sniffling she pulled herself together and thought of her situation logically. The valit was dead, and the offspring would soon follow. Nothing would change that. She would die without water today. She did the logical thing. T'Pol cut the carcass open avoiding the area around the pouch and sliced the meat away ignoring the bile rising from her stomach. She ate raw meat and drank blood for several hours before continuing her journey. She disgusted herself when she liked the taste of the meat. The stickiness of the blood on her hands and the taste of meat on her tongue stayed with her for the rest of her journey.

Her parents surprised her. The welcomed her back. They did not approve of her taking another life, but they knew she did what was necessary to survive.

Archer listened to her story not knowing what to say. In his mind a child should never have to go through something like that. He knew he shouldn't judge. Some of his culture's ways might seem just as horrific to Vulcans.

"I don't know what to say… I'm sorry you had to go through killing an animal like that."

"There is nothing for you to be sorry for. You had no control over the events that happened."

"I still feel for what you went through."

---

"I didn't really know him. He worked in computer repair. I'm a grease monkey. I usually work on engines." The grease on his uniform testified to that. "He kept to himself a lot. He seemed like –"

"- a nice guy. He never treated me differently because I'm a construction worker. He was easy to get along with. He didn't bother me. I didn't bother him. Best roommate I ever had. We would talk sometimes in the galley of the Constellation. He talked a lot about –"

"- his wife and kid. He missed them terribly. I felt sorry for him, loosing his family like that. He didn't talk to me much about things other than work, but when he did talk, it was always about his wife and kid. I was interested in him when first started working together. This girl has enough sense to know not to get involved with a grieving man. And, well, something about him-"

"- just didn't feel right. Grieving is one thing, but wallowing in it is entirely different. He became an automaton after Tressa died. He played nice to everyone, but I could tell he was just going through the motions. I worked for years with him on Jupiter Station. After the Xindi attack, I didn't know him anymore. I thought he'd end his life sooner than he did. They took away everything that he lived for. I never thought he'd-"

"- go this far. I saw him in the gym sometimes on the Constellation. We would talk. He hated this planet as much as me. You know what its nickname is? Purgatory. I think it fits this ball of dust perfectly. Some people feel like me, we're just waiting for the Xindi to find us. Ryan felt this place was his punishment. He was in limbo between living and dying. I'm not a psychologist, but he talked a lot about that stuff. He might have thought he was being punished, but he punishing himself as much as he punished his body. I told him he couldn't have prevented their death. He went on about how Starfleet could have. I knew he wanted justice, but I didn't think he'd try to –"

"- try to kill someone. Sure, I knew he was depressed and probably had some sort of insanity, but I thought he'd just off himself to end his pain. I got drunk with him a few times back in his quarters on Jupiter Station. He told me how much he wanted to kill the Xindi who took his family away. Say, this wouldn't have to do with that –"

"Vulcan bitch. She deserved to die for what she did." The red haired man, whose muscular frame was tanned by the summer sun, stood up and leaned over the table at Reed. "You should have stopped her! How could you let a Vulcan whore who trade favors with your amnesiac captain command a starship? She destroyed your warp nacelle and with it your opportunity to stop the Xindi weapon."

Reed stood up and grabbed the man by his collar. "Shut up and listen! If I find out you know anything about what happened to Archer and T'Pol, I will personal see you work in the mining operations in the southern continent in chains along side the hardened criminals who were headed for Tantalus Penal Colony. The only bitch will be you when you meet your new roommates."

The man smiled, "I don't know anything. You only have me here because I'm a member of Terra Prime. Before you told me Calvert's name, I'd never heard of the man. You can give me a truth serum, if you want, but you know I'm telling the truth."

He gave him the truth serum anyway. The man was speaking the truth. Reed could help but think that they were running out of time.

"Hoshi to Reed."

"Reed here."

"We've decoded the program."

---

"Is that tumbleweed?" Archer asked pointing at several 'tumbleweed' blowing across the sand dunes. His mouth was dry and his tongue threatened to stick to the roof of his mouth as he talked. Clearing his throat, he couldn't dislodge the constant lump that had been in his throat all day.

Archer walked up to the top of the sand dune to get a better look. Water in his eyes refracted the sun's light like a prism making it hard to see the object of his interest clearly. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He both hope for and feared the time when his tears would dry up. His boots sunk into the sand as he took slow steps pausing in between each to rest. Each step brought with it a myriad of sensations. His whole body felt exhausted. It would be easier to say which parts of his body didn't hurt than to list all the muscles, skin, and, if he wasn't imagining it, bones that did. Sand rubbed between his toes and between the soles of his feet and the bottom of his boots. Some time ago, his feet had swollen to the point where he couldn't pry off his boots and empty them. The pounding in his head and ringing in his ears became annoyances like the hot dryness traveling through his nose to his throat and lungs and back out his mouth with each breath. He wanted to lie down and let sleep or death claim him. But he kept moving for the woman beside him.

"Tumbleweed?" T'Pol stopped walking and followed his sunburned finger to look at the object of his interest- what looked like dead bushes tumbling through the sand. He cleared his throat again, and scratched his ear, which wouldn't stop itching. Fingernails tipped with streaks of blood told him he'd scratched too much today.

"No. We have encountered these creatures before. They are small reptiles that connect together and travel across the desert together. You hypothesized when we first encountered them that they might be traveling between water sources."

Archer perked up when she mentioned water. Licking his cracked lips, he dreamed of refreshing pools of water deep enough for him to dive into. Feeling the hot dryness in his lungs, throat, and mouth, he coughed. "Why did I say that?"

"Several 'tumbleweeds' arrived at an oasis we were surveying and proceeded to feed off the plant life there."

"Oh."

"It is best not to disturb the creatures. They are poisonous."

"Do you think they are going to water?"

"That is a possibility."

"Let's follow them."

"They may not be headed towards water."

Archer shook his head and yelled, "They are! Where else would they be going?"

"Jonathan, please calm yourself and try to think rationally. The wind could take them to random locations."

"I am rational. I'm following them. If you don't want to come-" his voice cracked.

T'Pol noticed the reptiles disconnect from each other and quickly burry themselves under the sand. The wind picked up speed and whipped hair into her face. Turning her head, she looked behind them. T'Pol widened her eyes and pulled on Archer's arm pleading with him, "We need to take cover."

Archer looked back. A wall of sand filled the horizon as far as his eyes could see. He stumbled after T'Pol down the side of the sand dune. T'Pol rummaged through her backpack and found the emergency blanket.

"Turn your back to the wind," She instructed. They sat down close together and T'Pol covered their heads and upper bodies with the blanket. Holding one of his shirts to her nose like a handkerchief, T'Pol looked at Archer. Archer adjusted the cloth covering his nose and mouth. They waited for the wall of sand to hit them.

The sand hit them knocking the wind out of Archer's chest. Sand filled the air and blocked out the sun's light. Most of the day, he'd felt like he'd been baking in an oven. Now it felt like someone turned the heat up to broil him to a crisp. He breathed slowly in and out through the cloth wondering how many hours the storm would last.

Overhead, a shuttlepod avoided the sand storm and continued searching.

---

Reed beamed up to Enterprise and joined Hoshi in the situation room.

"Captain," he said to Trip as he entered the doors.

"Malcolm," Trip replied. Reed could see the dark circles under Trip's eyes. Each day Archer and T'Pol continued to go missing took a toll on Trip and the rest of the senior staff.

"Hoshi, fill Malcolm in." Reed knew from the look on Trip's face that the news wasn't the miracle they were looking for.

"We," she referred to herself and the team of computer programmers she worked with, "decoded the program and analyzed the commands it is designed to generate. We believe this program is designed to override all navigational functions of a shuttlepod at a designated place along the shuttle's flight path. It then diverts the course of the shuttlepod to another location. The program also locks out all computer functions from manual control while the program is engaged. Life support is also cut when the program is engaged. Attempts to override the program will initiate a program that detonates an explosive device."

Reed didn't like the sound of that last part. "Does the program say what destination the shuttlepod is diverted to?"

"Yes." She brought up the coordinates and pointed to them in the string of computer codes. "Here. I tried bringing up the coordinates, but they don't exist. Lt. Thompson theorized they might be a phony set of coordinates used as a placeholder. Calvert may have entered the real coordinates later after he uploaded the contents of this disk to the shuttlepod computer or an external hard drive."

Reed sighed and thanked Hoshi for her update. Another dead end.

---

He didn't fall asleep that night. He stayed awake as thoughts raced through his head. Confusion and frustration set in and he tried to calm his mind. He closed his eyes trying to meditate. The sound of sand moving under shoes caused him to open his eyes.

"Mom," Archer mouthed. Sitting on the sand beside T'Pol was his mother. In the dim starlight he could barely make out her face.

"Jonathan," she smiled at him.

"Mom, why are you here?" he whispered. He moved his hand away from T'Pol's stomach and moved away slowly from the comforting heat of her body.

"How can you do this to her son?" he soft voice became harsh with disapproval.

"Do what mom? I don't understand."

"Do you remember what I told you the day your father died? He told me that he didn't want us to see him when he died. I'm glad that I honored his wishes despite your protests. You were spared of having to witness his dying breaths. Now you are faced with a similar decision yet you won't spare her from having to helplessly watch your death."

"Mom, I –"

"Don't make excuses Jonathan. I know you don't want to die alone, but think about her. You love her. Don't let her last memory of you be of cradling your dying body. Do the right thing for her."

Archer reached down and smoothed the hair away from T'Pol's ears. He looked back up at his mother and saw she had vanished.

T'Pol awakened to find Archer gone. She pulled back the emergency blanket and called out for him, "Jonathan."

She easily located his deep tracks through the sand and followed them. He hadn't wandered far. She found him staggering through the sand a few dunes away.

"You need rest Jonathan."

"Go away," he slurred and continued walking through the sand. He sounded like an intoxicated man.

T'Pol grabbed his arm and halted him. "No. I will not let you travel alone."

"Let me go. I slow you down." His tongue clicked against his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Feebly he tried to escape from her grip. He panted from the exertion.

"No."

"I don't want you to watch me die." His eyes pleaded with her to let him go.

"You will not die alone. Come back with me and rest."

"No," he said in his poor attempt at his command voice.

"If you will not come back with me, I will be forced to carry you back."

Archer came back to rest without further protest. When he lay down again with her, T'Pol held him tightly to her.

----

Archer stared off in front of him seldom blinking. He wheezed between each breath. His gravely voice spoke, "I think I need to rest." He stumbled and collapsed on the sand unable to wait for T'Pol. Over the last few days, their routine had become walk and rest then walk some more.

T'Pol knelt beside him and grabbed his arm, pulling him up to sit. Archer saw the concern plainly on her face. He also saw the bags under her eyes still visible despite the deep bronze of her darkened complexion.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he whispered, "I just need to rest."

T'Pol gave him a look that said he was a bad liar. Then, she turned to unpack clothing from her bag and make a layer of clothing on the ground to protect their skin from the hot sand. She helped him crawl onto the makeshift blanket and lie in a fetal position. T'Pol sat beside him holding the emergency blanket up. The shiny side was pointed towards the sun to reflect some of its heat.

Archer closed his eyes. An hour later, T'Pol shook him to wake him up. He didn't wake. His skin felt feverish and his pulse raced below her fingers. T'Pol's shaky hands reached for the first aid kit. She filled the hypospray with a vial that was only 1/3 full. The rest of it she'd given to him over the past few days at night. She injected the electrolytes into him. She pulled another vial out and injected herself with stimulants.

Sticking two fingers to her mouth she moistened them with spit and rubbed it onto his lips. It was the only fluids she had to give him.

No, she thought. There is something else. Urine was no longer an option since Archer's stopped producing it a day ago, and her body was producing limited amounts. But her thoughts were right. There was still something she hadn't tried.

The shot of electrolytes helped Archer regain semi-consciousness. The waning evening sun shined in his face. He felt his head being lifted and a hot fluid being poured in through his parted lips. Thankfully it didn't taste like urine. It was thicker and left a metallic aftertaste. Archer couldn't figure out what it was. His eyes focused enough for him to see T'Pol's face hovering over him. She looked paler than she looked before he lost consciousness. His eyes couldn't focus on the specimen bag hanging over his mouth When T'Pol took the empty bag away, Archer's eyes widened and he coughed threatening to wretch the liquid onto the ground.

There was no denying what the green liquid that coated the bag was. T'Pol stowed the bag away in the first aid kit along with the device she'd used to seal up the slice in her wrist.

Archer always knew she'd give her life for him, but he never knew she'd go this far to keep him alive. She'd bleed herself dry to keep him alive if he didn't stop her.

"Why?" his voice grated out as she helped him up to sit.

"You would die without fluids," she reasoned in a monotone voice hiding her feelings.

"You will too," he looked over her wondering what kind of twisted logic she used in her head to justify this.

"It is my choice."

"Don't do it again. That's an order."

She raised her right eyebrow, "You no longer have the authority to make orders."

His arms shook as he tried to force himself to remain sitting upright without falling back into the sand. T'Pol moved to sit beside him. She let him against her right shoulder.

"It's my choice. Don't do it again."

Night fell and they slowly crept along the sand dunes. Shortly before daybreak, the dunes made way to loose rocks and sand at the base of the mountains. T'Pol found condensation on the rocks and mopped it up with the only clean item of clothing in her backpack, a pair of socks. Archer knelt by her and took a sock from her eagerly squeezing moisture onto his tongue. They moved along wiping rocks and drinking the water drop by drop. Archer was never so glad to see rocks strewn along their path.

Several other things gave him hope. These mountains weren't as tall as they seemed. Once they were probably tall mountains or volcanoes. Wind and time weathered them away to the point where they were only grayish white overgrown hills. Something else caught his eye darting among the gray sky as the first rays of sunlight touched the rocks above them. Blue lights shined their lights as they flew over one of the smallest hills nearby.

"T'Pol look at that."

T'Pol immediately recognized the fireflies which entranced Archer weeks ago. A viable habitat for the insects must be nearby. One thing they needed to procreate was water. T'Pol felt something she hadn't felt in days. Hope.

---

Back on Earth these hills would not be a challenge for Archer. He'd climbed a mountain in Nepal that made these steep hills look like pebbles. These hills should have been child's play.

Archer panted and wiped his forehead again. Climbing up away from the desert floor lowered the temperature by 20 degrees that meant he only had to hike and climb in 100-degree weather. His lungs wheezed as they topped another hill. Looking out at the other hilltops, he looked over at T'Pol. The blurry mass of light beside him didn't say anything. Their exertion today and the day before hadn't agreed with him. Dewdrops gathered from rocks in the morning yielded only enough water to replenish what he lost in an hour. He was now essentially blind.

Itching his arm, he had the urge to take his clothes off. The fabric felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin. He reached for his shirt and tried to unbutton the buttons. His fingers fumbled at the buttons. T'Pol reached for his hands and stilled them buttoning his shirt back up without saying anything. Archer wondered how many times he'd try to strip his clothing before she became so casual about the situation.

T'Pol pulled on his hand guiding him down the hill. She warned him of obstacles, but he still stumbled over half of them. Thoughts threaded together knotting themselves distracting him from her words.

Afternoon was turning into evening when his legs gave out beneath him. She caught him before his head hit the jagged rocks.

He whispered I'm sorry to her. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body sagged limp.

"Jonathan," she called louder, "Jonathan."

She felt for a pulse on his neck. Erratic, but still there. He needed cold water on his skin, and lots of water to drink. She only hoped that the water source they were looking for was nearby.

Looking at him, she couldn't help feeling that she failed in her duty to protect him. She was no longer his first officer, but she felt obligated to protect her friend. She looked after him in his condition. She failed to keep her friend safe. Now he was dying.

Her palms found his cheeks. Closing her eyes, she tried to empathically sense emotions from him. Mentally reaching out to him, she connected with something. Fear was buried deep inside his mind. Strong, overwhelming fear forced through her mental shields. T'Pol didn't have to be mind-melding with him to know what he feared- death. He was alive. For now that would have to be enough.

Picking him up, she adjusted him until his head rested on her arm. Pain protested in her muscles. With each steps she practiced meditative breathing. The pain faded into the background.

The fireflies came again that night. T'Pol didn't stop to rest. She walked on letting the area in the sky with highest concentration of fireflies be her beacon. Three hours later she saw hope.

His fingers grazed the water first. The arms holding him lowered his body. His hands came to rest in silt and sand only to be followed by his back. Water lapped up against the sides of his face. The sound of moving water accompanied the sensation of his clothes being removed. A cloth brushed water over his parted lips and closed eyes. Slowly his body began to cool and he became more aware of his surroundings.

T'Pol squeezed the scrap of his shirt out and soaked it with fresh water. Her hand traced the plains of his body with the cloth. What little flesh his body had not reclaimed clung to his bones under his leathery skin. His skin soaked up the moisture from the cloth eagerly. She tenderly washed the dirt away from his face and the strands of his coarse beard.

His eyes blinked open after an hour in the cool spring water.

"T'Pol," Archer grated out through cracked lips.

T'Pol's face leaned over him. Moonlight painted her face a silvery white. Her face sparkled with what looked like fairy dust. Fireflies flew behind her. Their pin pricks of blue light darting through the sky. The ethereal scene transformed a weak, pale, exhausted T'Pol with sand caking her skin into a goddess in Archer's eyes.

"Jonathan." Did he imagine the happiness and relief in her voice? Or Her eyes filled with unshed tears?

"What happened?"

T'Pol knew the look of confusion on his face well. T'Pol pulled Archer's head in her lap to angle his head above his body. Filling a water pouch with water, she brought it to his mouth.

"Drink. Then I will explain."

T'Pol watched him drink. Relief spread through her taking away the hollowness in her chest and the rigid tension in her body. He was alive. For now, her thoughts added. Approximately eight days of travel lay ahead of them before they reached the colony. T'Pol calculated their likelihood of survival. Turning her eyes back to Archer, she watched him and considered their options.

---

"Let's go over the program again, Hoshi." Hoshi sighed and pulled up the program files.

"My team has already been over this thing about a hundred times. I don't know what you are expecting to find."

"Pull up the number of the location we thought was made up."

"Here it is."

"Something seems familiar about that location. It almost seems like the numbers aren't meant to describe a location on this planet."

"Like Earth." Hoshi whispered as the realization hit her. They both exchanged a knowing look.

"I'm already on it." Hoshi pulled up the location. "There it is. The Dead Sea."

"We were partly right. The number was a place holder, but if I'm right, it will still tell us where the shuttlepod was programmed to crash land. Get Trip in here, I think I know where they are."

---

T'Pol looked over at the sleeping form of Archer. He lay on the biobed next to her as naked as she under the white hospital sheet. The efforts of Phlox and his medical team erased all signs of sunburn from his skin. The weight he lost was another matter. An I.V. of fluids constantly dripped into him through a needle in his forearm. Slowly he would gain back his muscle and fat missing from his shrunken face and thin arms, legs, and torso.

Relief was the emotion T'Pol most felt seeing him breathing steadily and not dying of thirst. He was safe now. She didn't have to worry anymore about keeping them both alive long enough to reach the colony or be rescued.

T'Pol reached for her glass of water again. Illogically, she kept gulping down glass after glass of water like it was her last.

Phlox came over and took the now empty glass away from her, "That's enough. Too much water is not good for your system. You can't have another glass until I tell you that you can."

T'Pol nodded. She unconsciously glanced over at Archer confirming once again that he was still there. Phlox followed her eyes and smiled.

"He's doing well. Which brings me to something I need to talk to you about."

T'Pol didn't acknowledge his statement.

"I discovered Vulcan blood in his kidneys and urinary tract. You didn't say he attacked you, so I believe you voluntarily gave your blood for him to drink." Phlox's face and voice turned serious.

"There were no other liquids available. I made the only logical choice." She looked away from him hoping he would drop the subject.

"I understand why you did it. You did not want him to die and kept him alive by any means necessary."

"Yes," she said in a barely audible voice.

"There is another matter I would like to discuss with you. The brain waves of the Captain," Phlox still referred to him by his former title, "are familiar. I didn't recognize the pattern until I remembered something about a Vulcan healing practice. Tell me exactly what you did. His treatment depends on it."

T'Pol could see herself leaning over Archer's weak body. T'Pol knew a way to help him, but it came with risks.

"He is in no danger."

"Applying Vulcan healing arts to humans can be risky."

"Yet you suggested I use Vulcan neuropressure on Captain Tucker."

Phlox was loosing his patience with her, "Neuropressure is very different and doesn't require mental contact. Tell me what you did. I cannot treat my patient if I don't know what you did to put him in this coma."

T'Pol relented and told him what happened, "After finding the stream, I bathed Jonathan in the water to decrease his core body temperature. He awakened and I gave him water over the next few hours. I saw some improvement in his condition. Then his condition began to deteriorate again. Jonathan lapsed into unconsciousness.

During my training for the Ministry of Security, we were taught how to help another Vulcan initiated a healing trance if they were unable to accomplish it alone. The technique does share limited feelings and thoughts, but it can be accomplished by non-melders. It is not as deep as a mind-meld and does not carry the same stigma since the technique is used for healing purposes.

I cupped the sides of Jonathan's face. I then guided him through the steps necessary to enter a trance with my thoughts. After several unsuccessful attempts, he established a successful trance. Several hours later, the shuttlepod arrived and rescued us."

"Will he wake on his own?"

"His trance is not as deep as a Vulcan's would be. He should be able to exit it on his own. If he does not, I can try to reach him again."

"I'll stay here in the hospital so I can monitor his condition closely." Phlox seemed satisfied, at least temporarily, with her answer. "Try to get some sleep. I'll check on you again soon."

---

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Trip asked.

"Yes." T'Pol said with conviction.

Trip walked with her over to the recently tilled square of land by the colony administration building. In the middle of the square stood a maple tree. Trip looked over T'Pol's face. She was taking what happened to Archer hard. He didn't know what to say or do to help her. At one time, she'd been what he would consider a friend. She let him in, like she did Archer, to see who she was behind the officer. Then he'd strained what friendship they had when he doubted her ability to command. Now he didn't know if she would let him back in to even be a casual friend. So he walked beside her and didn't say a thing about Archer.

A crowd had gathered around the small square of land and the tree. T'Pol stopped and stood behind the crowd. Several people turned and noticed her eyeing her with curious or angry looks. Most of the crowd didn't notice her presence.

A podium was set up in front of the square. The colony leaders stood beside it. One of them, a man that T'Pol recognized as the head speaker of the colonial leaders, stepped forward and spoke into the microphone.

He said good morning and introduced himself, then quickly launched into his speech, "We are gathered here today to remember. To remember those who lost their lives in the attacks on Earth and her colonies. There is not a person among us who hasn't lost someone. The tree behind me was being shipped from Earth to Vega Colony. It is the only surviving tree from our home world. This tree survived along with the crew of The Aurora and made it safely to this planet. Some may see this tree as just another tree, but I see it is a symbol of the determination to survive that I see each day in the colonists here. As we begin to build our homes here on this planet and take up residence here, so will this tree adapt to its new home, put down roots in the soil, and eventually grow and flourish"

The colonists were invited to stay for the dedication ceremony. The colonial leaders first planets their small stakes with blue ribbons flying from them in the bare soil around the tree. Colonists followed. Some had ribbons, others pictures, attached to small stakes, sticks, metal rods, or anything else they could get their hands on. The thinning crowd left behind a multicolored display surrounding the tree.

"I still don't understand why you are doing this," Trip told her.

"They should be remembered," T'Pol said looking down at the objects in her hands.

"Are you doing this because you feel guilty that you couldn't stop the weapon?" Trip wondered.

"No. As captain, I was responsible for the live of my crew. I remember each of the deaths under my command. I am here to honor them."

"I'm not talking about the crew. I'm talking about his family."

"Mr. Calvert's family deserves to be remembered as well," T'Pol looked at him as if it was the most logical and self-explanatory thing.

"He tried to kill both of you. You don't owe him or his family anything."

"You are correct in that he attempted to kill both Jonathan and I. But his family was not responsible for his actions."

Trip shook his head. T'Pol could use logic to justify about anything.

T'Pol left him standing there and walked over to the tree past the groups of people conversing in the square. She knelt and drove one stake into the ground. The wind picked up the ribbons, one for each crewmember lost under her command, and whipped them against each other. The other stake in her hand had a hook coming out from it. T'Pol placed it in the ground and hung a chain with a locket on the hook. She looked at both in silence for a moment then left. Several dozen eyes followed her wondering whom the Vulcan was there to remember.

Trip followed T'Pol back to the nearby hospital. She sat in the chair she'd occupied for the past few days by Archer's bedside. Trip couldn't help but wonder what Archer meant to T'Pol. The way she looked at him, cared for him, and loyally stayed by him. It all spoke of feelings that no matter what they were ran deep.

He left them alone and went to make a few arrangements for them. A communicator call from Phlox cut his business in the administration building short. He rushed back over to the hospital to see Archer's eyes blinking open. T'Pol held Archer's right hand. This was not what shocked Trip the most. T'Pol's eyes held Archer's like a lifeline. Her eyes glistened with moisture. Her face was relaxed as she talked in a hushed voice to him.

Trip had no doubt at that moment that T'Pol was in love with Archer. Not the kind of love that a teenager has with her first boyfriend. Or the kind of love that fades as quickly as it appears. She loved him like he was her husband and companion. It all made sense now. Why she left Enterprise to care for Archer. Why she never gave up on him. Why she couldn't leave him.

The tragedy of the situation hit Trip. T'Pol probably didn't realize the emotion that drove her. Archer might not ever find out about her feelings. And if he did… what could they do about it? Share their feelings then start over again the next day? It wasn't fair. Trip knew Archer felt something at one time for T'Pol. If the Expanse didn't change him, maybe something would have came of it. Nothing could happen now. T'Pol more than likely knew than and had to accept it. She could learn so much about Archer, but he would never get to know her more.

Trip moved over to his friend's bedside and said hello and wished him a speedy recovery. Archer commented that this place didn't look like sickbay. Trip decided to take his leave and let T'Pol explain to Archer. Walking back to the administration building, Trip decided to make new arrangements for Archer and T'Pol.


	6. Missing Dream

A/N: This dream was originally set in the Survival chapter during the first time T'Pol and Archer slept in the desert. I didn't feel that it fit well with the feel of the chapter, but I decided to post it separately. Archer is "off" on purpose. I find sometimes when I'm dreaming that I act out of character in my dreams, so I took liberty with him here.

---

T'Pol opened her eyes as she felt an odd sensation. She lay on her back with leafy foliage supporting her body. Through the corners of her eyes she saw blades of grass surrounding her. She sat up and looked around. A field of grass spread out before her the same color of green as the dress she wore. Groves of trees bordered the grass on three sides. On the fourth side a two-story sky blue house with a wraparound porch looked down on the sloping yard. Her eyes finally rested on the man lying beside her in the grass.

Jonathan wore a white shirt and white pants. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Beautiful isn't it?" He asked as he stood up and offered her a hand. She accepted it and he pulled her up to stand beside him. "I used to sit out here as a child and imagine I could paint the sky, the grass, and everything any color if I imagined it. Before you came here, I changed a few details of this place in my mind. I can't do it all by myself. Would you help me paint them?"

T'Pol surmised she must be dreaming and decided to play along.

She raised her eyebrow. "How do I paint without a brush?" More importantly, how could she paint her surroundings?

He walked up to her and grabbed the scarf around her neck rubbing the fabric between his fingers. T'Pol noticed the white silk and golden embroidery in cursive Vulcan script. He slid it off her neck and let it fly away in the wind to land on the grass. Where it landed, dandelions sprung up from the grass and multiplied spreading across the field. Cottony white globe of dandelion seeds poked out among a sea of golden flower.

"Any way you can think of. After all, this is only a dream. "

"What is this place?" T'Pol asked as Jonathan bent down and picked her a daisy. The smiling, happy man in front of her caught her off-guard. He reminded her of the man she glimpsed in their off-hours. The man who smiled at her over his cup of coffee as he talked of his homeworld, the stars. The man who didn't know the word Xindi yet. At the same time, this happy man seemed a product of dreams or fantasies.

He placed it behind a pointed ear and answered, "This is my family's vacation home. The last time I came here was shortly before my father became sick." His smile turned sad.

"And why have you come here?" T'Pol asked assured she was really asking a character made by her subconscious these questions.

He looked around puzzled, "I don't know, but I'm happy to be here with you," he said with a smile, "We don't have much time. Clasp your hands together like you are holding something inside them. Yes, like that."

He took her hands in his and pressed her fingertips to his lips blowing air inside of her hands. "Now hold your hands over your head and let go." She let go and a fluffy cloud emerge from her hands to take its place in the sky. T'Pol watched the cloud with interest. Her outstretched hand swept back down to her side leaving a rainbow in its wake.

"See, you're catching on." Jonathan made more clouds, "I remember clover covering the ground, too. Would you like to help me make that?"

She nodded. Jonathan placed his hands on her hips and whispered, "Trust me." He hovered close to her and smiled mischievously. T'Pol realized what he was doing too late. He pushed her back and she fell rolling down the hill. He followed her landing beside her. He smiled helping her up. She eyed him cautiously. This dream was turning out to be most unusual.

"Look at what we did," he said pointing to the patch of clover at their feet and the other patches dotting the hillside. Clouds of dandelion seeds scattered through the air in their wake. "We make a great team." He picked a blade of grass out of her mussed hair and smoothed it down as his hand moved to caress her cheek.

"There's one last thing we need to do."

He handed her a handful of loose dirt and instructed her to blow on it. Air from her parted lips propelled the dirt into the air. The dirt turned into hundreds of brown butterflies that flew through the rainbow and picked up its colors. T'Pol watched enchanted.

Jonathan whispered in her ear, "Now close your eyes." His lips softly kissed her cheek. "If you ever need to find me, I'll be here."


	7. First House

Summary: T'Pol discovers the depth of their connection as Archer recovers.

A/N: Last chapter, the dream, was meant to be a deleted scene. I did have an inspiration, so look out for a reference to it later in the second part of this chapter. Most of this chapter owes something to a conversation I had with a reviewer, SHAMALAMADINGDONG. Thanks! Many, many apologies for the lateness of this. If there are any glaring errors, let me know.

oooooooooo

_Ceti Alpha desert, day of rescue_.

_Even as he eagerly drank water from the stream, she knew something was wrong. Hours passed and the sensation grew. When he spoke, she knew he felt it too._

"_Have I ever thanked you for being my first officer?" his hoarse voice cracked from the strain of speaking._

_She smoothed his wet hair away from his forehead. Moisture gathered in her eyes. Pain constricted her throat. She choked out the words, "Yes, you have."_

"_And for being my friend?" he whispered. _

_His green eyes stared up at her. The full silver sphere of the moon reflected in his pupils. His chest struggled to rise and fall with each wheezing breath. Numbness thankfully replaced the pain hours ago. Perhaps that is what gave them both the feeling that the end was coming. His body shut down to the point that even his pain stopped._

"_You have thanked me for that as well several times," she whispered._

"_I can't thank you enough for being in my life and all that you've done for me." He tried to smile to take the sadness from the words. All he could manage was to turn up the corners of his lips. _

_A tear broke free from her left eye and dropped down onto his forehead. She wiped it away with her fingertips. _

"_You don't have to say anything T'Pol. Just be here with me." He blinked as if he were crying. No tears fell from his dry eyes._

"_There is no need to thank me. You accepted me as your first officer. And you showed me friendship. I have been fortunate to know you. You are more than my friend. You are my -"_

_He closed his eyes and fell limp in her arms. She called out his name frantically. His hands splashed in the shallow water as she shook his shoulders._

_Breathing in she became aware of the aching pain in her lungs. Nearly sixty years ago, a Vulcan girl cloaked in the robes of mourning felt the same sensation. She snuck out into the night to perform her ritual one last time. Her face upturned to the stars, she located the last star her father visited, the one his atoms now orbited. Then as now, an emotion, raw and powerful overwhelmed her logic and intensified with each breath. Grief. She felt empty as if something was ripped from her leaving her body hollow, and she ached for his return. _

_Logic kicked in restoring order. Her hand went to his neck. A faint pulse thumped against her fingers. _

_Her hands gently cupped his cool skin. Fear, sadness, resignation, and acceptance washed over her. His life was fading, and he was prepared to die. She wasn't prepared to let him. Reaching out to his presence, she searched for him. Emotions continued to bombard her blocking her way._

_Between them she sensed a connection. Once she found it she focused on strengthening it. She held fast to the connection and pulled herself along it moving against the strong current of his emotions threatening to push her out of his mind._

"_Can you hear me?" she asked. _

_What felt like hours of silence passed. A distant voice responded, "Yes." _

_Relief spread through her. "Please do what I ask of you." _

_She explained to him the steps in entering a healing trance. Across their link she sent him her strength. Jonathan tried and failed several times before he entered the trance successfully. _

_T'Pol dropped her hands from his face. She looked down at his head rested in her lap. Tension slowly drained from his face leaving a look of peace behind. His labored breathing began to even out. His eyes started steadily moving back and forth underneath his closed lids. _

_She understood she'd only delayed the inevitable. A Vulcan child trained their body to heal itself. Jonathan lacked that knowledge. The trance may have gained him a few more hours. _

_T'Pol realized he didn't have to know because she did. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her senses to her surroundings. A breeze cooled her skin and tossed about strands of her hair. The sound of water trickling over and around rocks and fireflies buzzing around them reached her ears. She smelled water, sweat, Jonathan, herself, and nearby plant life. She tasted the moisture in the air combined with the taste of the salt of sweat on her lips. _

_Opening her eyes, she absorbed the scene around her. If it weren't for the circumstances she would consider it beautiful. The black dome of the night sky was painted with millions of pinpoints of light. Clusters of blue firefly eggs lit the streambed and their older brethren lazily flew around them. Moonlight reflected off the swirling eddies in the water. _

_She was now ready. Throughout her body existed a sense of balance and peace achieved by her meditation. She stood cradling him in her arms and walked a few feet to the stream bank. She sat again on the dry rock laying his head back down on her lap. Her hands moved again to cup his chin. Her eyelids became heavy and closed. _

_She reached out to their link again sending the healing energy he needed to him. He would not die today. As he would say, she was too stubborn to let him._

T'Pol watched the man sleeping in the biobed across from her chair. He couldn't remember any of their days together. A glimmer of hope still lay inside her hoping that someday he would remember. It remained despite logic dictating she let go of something as illogical as hope. Some days she indulged in something else illogical. She envied him. He couldn't remember all the things she wished she could forget.

Sitting in the lotus position on the cold hospital floor, T'Pol entered a meditative state. The memory retreated back into the recesses of her mind. A temporary solution. The memory always came back again when she thought about their past or their future.

oooooooooooo

Blinking her vision clear, T'Pol froze looking out at the room around her. She lay on her right side in a bed with a cream colored sheet covering her. Her surroundings told her a few things. The colors, materials, and architecture said to her she was in Vulcan home. Light streaming through a window caught her eye. The long, slender window revealed the orange cast of the morning sky and the spires of Vulcan buildings in the distance confirming her suspicion.

Turning over onto her back she further examined her surroundings. She blinked in disbelief. Standing up, she crossed over to a shelf on the other side of the room. On it laid rocks and crystals neatly arranged. She picked up a clump of crystals radiating out from a common center. The hourglass shaped sand within each of the clear crystals reminded her of time spent digging through the crust of a salt plain with her mother. She walked through her sparsely decorated room towards the door.

A knock came from the door. Before she could answer it, the door opened.

"T'Pol," Jonathan whispered.

"I am awake. You may come in," she stoically informed him. She immediately noticed when he walked through the door his body showed none of the after effects of days spent in the desert. Her eyebrows crept up high on her forehead.

He walked comfortable into his room like he was a frequent visitor. Guiding her back to her bed, he motioned for her to sit. He pulled a chair over to her bedside and sat down.

"I know this must be confusing to you. I'll try to help you sort your memories out. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was in a hospital… in the colony. You were recovering from dehydration."

"This may be difficult to believe. But that never happened. Earth was not destroyed. And Enterprise never guided a convoy to colonize Ceti Alpha 5. Do you remember the anomaly that hit the corridor we were walking in?"

"Yes. A fallen support beam pinned my leg. You lifted it and freed me. The anomaly hit you before I could pull you out of its path."

"The support beam didn't fall on you. It fell on me. The anomaly hit you before I could pull you to safety," he delivered the news calmly like he'd told her the same thing many times. Something else surprised her. A slight Vulcan accent crept into his speaking now and then.

T'Pol's eyebrow's pinched together. "I remember the events since the accident vividly."

Jonathan looked down and regained his composure. When his eyes returned to hers, she could see the pain he tried to hide. "Whose thoughts do you remember? Are they your own or someone else's?"

The answer surprised T'Pol. It always did. "Up until I induced your healing trance, I do not remember my own thoughts. I saw through your eyes, heard your thoughts, and felt your emotions. After I strengthened our connection, I began to see and feel through myself as well as you."

"I can imagine you're glad to get out of my mind for a change," Jonathan smiled.

T'Pol didn't respond.

"The anomaly left parasites behind in your brain. I know those memories seem real, but the way Phlox explained it to me, these parasites sort of jumble up your memories. The parasites also affect the center of your dreams and imagination. Your mind takes the jumbled up memories of what happens each day and creates a story in your head to connect the dots. It's almost like your dreams become a part of that story."

T'Pol looked at him not believing what she heard.

"I know it sounds ludicrous. I didn't believe it at first until I saw you after the accident and you believed that it had happened to me. Phlox found that the parasites were genetically engineered to disrupt memory."

T'Pol started to question her life with Jonathan on Ceti Alpha 5. "What happened after the accident?"

"Phlox identified your condition, but couldn't find a cure. I was determined to find a way that you could still contribute to the success of our mission. It was tough at first, but I found a way. I woke up early each morning and told you what really happened. I had the logs to back up my 'highly illogical' story, and I showed a few of those to you. I couldn't have completed the mission without you. You helped me form an alliance with Degra." T'Pol wondered who this Degra she'd never heard of was.

"You found a way to disable the weapon and a way out of the Expanse. Enterprise was badly damaged during the final Xindi defense of the weapon. It took us a year to limp back to Earth. Enterprise is undergoing a six-month overhaul. With the help of a Vulcan ship, I brought you back here to the Vulcan Science Academy to see if the doctors can find a cure."

"I see." She didn't fully see what he was trying to explain to her.

Jonathan took her hand between his and gently rubbed it. "I know this must be a lot to take in. You've been on Vulcan for almost four months. We've taken you to healers and scientists who have tried to treat your condition." Looking down at his hands, he realized what he was doing and set her right hand back down. "So far, we've had no success."

T'Pol nodded. She thought of someone who was missing, "Where is my mother?"

"She's teaching her classes right now." Jonathan looked away and tried to hide a frown.

"You are holding something back about my mother."

He looked back at her. "You read me well. T'Les has opened her house to both of us. When we aren't here or traveling by shuttle to another hospital or monastery, we stay in her home. She's treated me with hospitality I didn't expect… But we disagree about what is best for you. She thinks it is logical to move you permanently into a medical institution. She thinks you would get better care and that the healers could _study_," he said the word with distaste, "your condition it in order to develop a form of treatment. It could be years before a treatment is developed. You would spend day after day in a place like that. I don't want you to live that way."

"My mother's logic is sound."

He softly laughed, "I know it is, T'Pol. You have to understand, I have the illogical need to ensure you have the best quality of life you possibly can. Living permanently in a medical facility doesn't sound like much of a life to me."

"I do not remember my quality of life for more than a day, so it does not matter." Her words stunned her. She'd remembered Jonathan telling her something very similar before she brought him to Ceti Alpha 5. Now she could understand his position better.

"It does to me, T'Pol. And you do remember in your own way. In your memories, I will probably be the one living in the medical facility, or whatever the parasites twist the place into. You will think of me being in there like I will think of you."

Jonathan looked out the window and thought.

"We won't have to worry about that until Enterprise nears completion. I'm spending the rest of my leave here with you. Your mother and I will work out our differences before then and decide what to do."

T'Pol thought back to a memory of deciding what was best for Jonathan, life on Enterprise or the colony. "If you had your choice what would you do?"

Jonathan looked in her eyes for a few moments then admitted, "I don't know. I'm certain that I can't let you live alone in a medical facility indefinitely. Who would explain to you each day what happened? Would you believe what a stranger tells you? What would you do every day other than walk around a hospital and meditate? At the same time, I wonder if it is the only thing to do. I will be returning to Enterprise in a few months," his voice turned softer and betrayed his emotions, "If you aren't well by then, I can't take you back to Enterprise with me."

Jonathan looked visibly upset at the prospect of her not going with him. He took a deep breath and quickly changed the subject, "We can talk about this again later if you like. Right now, we both need to get some breakfast."

oooooooooooo

"Take slow steps."

Jonathan's right hand gripped the metal cane with white knuckles as he stood up. His left hand unconsciously squeezed T'Pol's right hand. He took a step forward. Pausing, he closed his eyes then inhaled and took the next step.

Sensations flowed from his hand to hers. T'Pol gasped from the pain she shared with him. Since inducing the healing trance, the emotions and sensations coming from him when they touched were amplified. She also felt more in tune with his emotional states when they weren't touching. She feared what this might mean.

Jonathan's bony fingers gripped hers hard. During their time in the desert, he'd lost almost 20 lbs. T'Pol was surprised by the figure. She thought he lost more weight than that. His body consumed his muscles and fat leaving behind the gaunt frame standing beside her.

Beneath his physical weakness, T'Pol saw strength in him that she admired. Each day he fought through the pain of walking and physical therapy exercises. His determination didn't amaze her. It was one of his traits that she'd admired over the years that she'd known him.

"You have shown much improvement in your walking." He'd come a long way. Seven days ago he was too weak to walk. He no longer lost his balance or wobbled on unsteady legs.

"Phlox told me this morning that I could be let go this week if I continue to have good progress."

"Yes, he informed me as well."

T'Pol leaned close to him steadying his left arm as he sat down in his wheelchair. In her nearness to him she smelled his scent. The smell was not the familiar one of him. Not the smell of aftershave and the musky cologne she would smell when he leaned over her station to talk to her. Nor the fresh, clean scent of his soap underlying it. Underneath the bland smell of hospital soap was a scent humans could not detect. A scent that was unique as a fingerprint for each human she met. The familiar smell reassured her that some things remained the same.

She realized that she'd been staring at him, and reluctantly dropped his arm.

"Where will we go after I'm released?"

This was one conversation T'Pol wasn't ready for. "We will return to Enterprise."

Jonathan looked at her, his brows knitted in confusion. "Why? You told me this morning that we left Enterprise so we could both live here in the colony. What changed your mind?"

"If we stay here, both our lives could be at risk."

Realization washed over his face. "You feel some responsibility for what happened in the desert?"

"Yes," she admitted in a low voice.

She felt partially responsible for what happened. The man who sabotaged their shuttle did so because of the command decisions she made. Jonathan almost died because he was trying to punish her. Other people in the colony may hold similar contempt for her and her decisions. If they stayed in the colony, other people might try to attack her and Jonathan. They must return to Enterprise.

Jonathan reached out to cup her forearms. "T'Pol, you shouldn't blame yourself. People like him want someone to punish for the deaths of their loved ones. If it wasn't you, he would have targeted someone else."

"My decision to leave Enterprise put both of us in danger. It is only logical for us to live in a safer place."

Jonathan sighed. He knew she felt guilty because he almost died, just like he knew she felt guilty about the anomaly striking him instead of her.

"You couldn't have known that this would happen. And you don't know what will happen for certain in the future."

"We should continue this conversation later. If we are going to attend the first planting, we must leave now."

With that T'Pol pushed Jonathan's wheel chair over to the nearest hydroponics greenhouse.

T'Pol's involvement in the greenhouse project changed after her return from the desert. She'd begun to correspond with the botanists and scientists about sand culture of plants before their trip to the desert. One day after their return, she was invited to visit the greenhouse.

During Jonathan's recovery, she made frequent trips to the greenhouse and discussed and demonstrated her ideas in person. Previous encounters with Vulcan scientists had taught some of the scientists not from Enterprise to expect their ideas to be looked down upon or taken lightly because they were human. Any tension between T'Pol and those scientists slowly diminished as they began to realize she saw them as equals.

The end result of their collaboration was a hydroponics garden that utilized the best of human and Vulcan methods. It was also a peculiar sight to see. Jonathan wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never seen a large-scale hydroponics greenhouse before. The greenhouse itself rose over a story above the ground. The graceful arch of flexi-glass and metal framework intensified the glare of morning sunlight. Inside the building, large containers designed for food transport were cut in half and filled with sand. Tubes ran into and out of each container. The tubes connected to other sealed containers and vats along the walls of the greenhouse.

T'Pol told him this morning that many of the colonists would be participating in the first planting. Many was an understatement. People in plain clothes or Starfleet uniforms were squished between the planting rows. Almost everyone looked up when T'Pol and Jonathan entered. Some waved or nodded and went back to work. Others said hello warmly. The guarded looks and hostility from a few faces bothered Jonathan.

A woman wheeled herself over to them in her wheelchair. "T'Pol. Archer. I'm glad you could make it. Let me get you both some seeds." She passed by them and headed for a nearby table with tools and flats full of sprouting seedlings.

"Here. This should be enough for both of you. Come with me. These can be planted in the bed I'm planting in."

Tyler introduced them to the rest of the group around the planting bed. All were scientists that seemed to be familiar with T'Pol except for an old woman and her granddaughter.

Nella Morales shook his hand firmly and nodded her head in T'Pol's direction when introduced. Her hand came to rest on the girl's shoulder. The movement caused her long silver hair to shift on her back. Jonathan recognized a slight Vega colony accent when she spoke, "Terra has told me a lot about both of you. She was quite fond of your stories Mr. Archer."

Terra, who couldn't be more than seven years old, shared some of the old woman's characteristics - eyes of mahogany, bronzed complexion, and a wide, generous smile. A head full of long wild curls matched the color of her eyes.

"Can you tell me again about the alien who wrapped you up in its tentacles?"

Jonathan smiled, "I'd love to. Maybe I can tell you more stories when I feel better."

Terra's eyes widened, "You could come to our house. I'll show you my model collection!"

"Sure. If it's okay with your grandmother."

"It is. You're welcome to come over any time and enjoy tea with us."

"Thank you." Jonathan looked at T'Pol. She didn't show any reaction to him making plans.

Conversations sprung up among their group now and then while they planted the seedlings into the sand. Tomatoes were the only plants in this bed. Other beds hosted lettuce, radishes, cucumbers, and other fruits and vegetable plants germinated from seeds gathered from hydroponics bays and cargo on different ships.

People stayed after the planting and clean up were finished to talk. The words that strangers came up to say to T'Pol and Jonathan were along similar lines.

"I wanted to tell you that that man didn't reflect the opinions of the people in this colony." Almost all the people who said that called him 'that man' as if saying his name would cause more pain.

Then there were the people T'Pol had never seen before who said, "I heard what happened to you. Are you both alright?"

The most unexpected comments were the ones like, "If you need a place to stay, there is a place for you on my cargo ship. I'm sure my crew wouldn't have a problem with it."

Jonathan wondered how many of those comments were more than just gestures.

Later back at the hospital he asked, "How many of those people who talked to us today have spoken to us before?"

T'Pol sipped from her glass of water. Jonathan noticed it was her fifth glass today. He didn't bring it up. She might just be rehyrdrating like him.

"Ten."

"I thought as much. Behind the smiles I could see guilt in some of their faces."

"Why would they feel guilty?"

"Sometimes people who aren't responsible for something feel guilty. Maybe because they feel responsible for not seeing the signs and preventing what happened," he looked at T'Pol pointedly and continued, "Or they might have felt their own hatred towards you and what happened made them look at themselves." Then there was the possibility that a person didn't want to look bad in front of others, so they played nice to a person they hate. Jonathan didn't mention that.

"I see. Those are probable explanations." T'Pol walked over to the lone desk in the ward and powered up the computer.

"T'Pol, I think we should have that talk." While I still remember what we need to talk about, he silently added.

"Very well." She took her seat again in the chair by his bedside.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself this afternoon," she raised an eyebrow. He half-smiled and continued, "Enjoy isn't the right word. I was lost when you talked with the other scientists about water filtration and nutrient enrichment, but I could tell that you were in your element. You've found a job you want to do and you've made colleagues. I think you want this colony to succeed as much as anyone else."

"A fairly accurate assessment. I find discussions with fellow scientists stimulating. My position in the project has been fulfilling. I do want the colony to succeed. To want it not to succeed would be illogical."

Jonathan's smile widened. The T'Pol sitting before him seemed so different at times today from the T'Pol he'd seen from his perspective yesterday. It wasn't just the way she casually touched him, or the looks tinged with silent pain or caring he'd see in unguarded moments. The energy between them felt different, like it had evolved into something more.

They both had difficulty sharing fully with people the private sides of themselves. That barrier seemed to be breaking down between them. He could see glimpses of a woman more complex than he'd ever imagined through the widening cracks in the mortar. Sadly, he would forget what he'd seen tonight and have to discover it again tomorrow. He'd never know just how close they would get.

"They were right you know."

"Who was right?"

"The people who said that colonists don't share views like that. Some prejudice might exist, but most people won't go to extreme measures."

"I can't take the risk..." she looked down at the floor unable to continue.

"The risk of what? Either of us getting harmed? Serving on Enterprise put us in danger from time to time. I didn't see you moving somewhere else because of the risk. Why is this any different?"

She gazed up into his eyes and whispered, "I can't take the risk of loosing you."

Jonathan swallowed. Things had definitely changed since the accident in the corridor. He wanted to clasp her shoulders and give her some comfort. Or hug her to him and say he understood because he stayed in the corridor because he couldn't loose her either. She sat just beyond his reach.

His voice caressed her name and betrayed his caring, "T'Pol. You're not going to loose me."

He could tell she wasn't convinced. Her fear clouded her logic. Getting through to her might be more than he could handle.

oooooooooo

Jonathan heated up the pot of theris-masu tea and went over to the stasis unit to retrieve the gespar he'd made for T'Les earlier that morning. By Vulcan tradition, houseguests made breakfast. In the time he'd spent as a guest in T'Les' house, he'd learned to cook many meals thanks to T'Pol's instruction.

He'd also become more adept at interpreting T'Pol's body language. She gave off subtle clues to her mood. Right now she was definitely holding something back.

"If you want to tell me what you're thinking about, I'm here to listen."

T'Pol set down her teacup and considered this. "In my… dreams, I remember each day - waking up in the mornings, going through my routine with you, meals, and conversations. On a few occasions, I have dreamed of my life here. I have experienced some dreams where you are there sharing the dream with me. After we were rescued from the desert, my dreams in that reality changed." She hesitated to continue.

Jonathan washed down his gespar, "In what way?"

"I have been an observer in the dreams. I witnessed events from your life."

She hadn't told anyone of the dreams. Assuming they were a side effect of helping Jonathan induce a healing trance, they might eventually go away when their enhanced connection began to fade. In the meantime, she both looked forward to and dreaded each dream. She would learn more about him with each dream. But unlike other parts of his life he'd shared with her, he didn't willingly share it.

Jonathan set his cup of tea down hard. She'd obviously never told him this.

"It could be the parasites playing with your memories again. I've told you about a few things from my past since we've been here. What events do you remember?"

"The first dream I recall happened three days after we arrived in the colony's hospital. I remember being inside a house…"

"Jonathan please sit down. Your father and I have something to tell you."

Jonathan sat down in the overstuffed chair across from the matching beige couch where his mother and father sat side by side. From the looks on their faces he could tell that whatever they needed to tell him was serious. His mother's usually warm eyes held only sadness. Something was preoccupying his father's mind, furrowing his brow like problems always did.

A bad feeling rose from the pit of his stomach. He thought back over the past few weeks trying to figure out why they wanted to talk to him. He hadn't gotten in trouble at school or done anything wrong, so they probably weren't getting ready to punish him. Only one other thing came to mind. Mom did take Dad to the doctor's office two days ago. Neither of them mentioned it since.

Jonathan wasn't worried about his dad. Dad had been forgetful lately. Maybe it was because he'd been upset because Ambassador Pointy Ears suggested a comprehensive test program for his warp engine, one that included numerous prototypes and extensive testing. Jonathan heard his father complain that what the Vulcans were asking for would take decades longer than the test program they already had in place. Dad was under pressure that was all. He would be okay if he relaxed and took some time away from his warp engine.

Mom and Dad looked at each other. Dad covered Mom's hand and squeezed it. He turned back to Jonathan and explained, "You know that your mother took me to see Dr. Leonard Wednesday. He ran some scans and discovered something."

Jonathan stared at his father and swallowed. His mind braced itself for what would be said next. He hoped that it would be something minor. But his gut told him something was horribly wrong. A feminine hand came to rest on his shoulder. Jonathan was unaware of it.

In the years to come, he wouldn't remember the storm forming outside the double window behind his parents, the smell of meatloaf hanging in the air from that night's dinner, or his mother's striped cat Cheshire rubbing against his legs begging for attention. He'd only remember the looks on their faces as they broke the news to him.

"He detected the first stages of Clark's disease."

The bad feeling in Jonathan's stomach intensified to a searing pain. "He's wrong. It's not true! Mom tell him it's not true. We can go to another doctor-"

"Jonathan!" Mom silenced him. Tears filled her eyes, "It is true. All the tests for the genetic markers came back positive. The doctors said we caught it early. It may be possible to send the disease into remission."

He didn't mean to ask the question, but it slipped out anyway, "So you're not going to die?"

Henry looked at him, his fears and uncertainty plain on his face. "I don't know son."

Jonathan listened numbly to his parents explain that they weren't sure about much of anything. They would have to wait and see. Jonathan headed back to his room and locked his door.

He searched the databanks for Clarke's disease and read everything he could find for the next few hours. Each new piece of information made him feel worse. From what he could understand, the chances of remission were slim at best. There was no cure and little chance of survival.

Climbing out of his window, he walked to a tree in the backyard guided by the light of the crescent moon. A rope ladder brought him up to his tree house. Tears escaped his eyes and streamed down his cheeks as he looked up at the constellations his father taught him.

A person hunched under the low ceiling beside him. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder again. Jonathan brought his knees to his chest. He couldn't hear her call out his name.

oooooooooo

Trip's smiling face entered the hospital ward.

"Trip," Jonathan said mirroring his smile.

Trip walked over to the biobed Jonathan was sitting up in. Grabbing Jonathan's hand, he pulled him in for a hug.

"I heard someone was getting released today." Jonathan's civilian attire supported what he'd heard.

"Yeah. Even though I can only remember being here a day, I'm eager to get out of here. You know me Trip, I don't like sitting around in hospital beds doing nothing."

"Then I have just the thing for you. If you and T'Pol are free to go, I'd like to take you to see it."

T'Pol spoke up from a computer console on a desk across the room. "Dr. Phlox has already released us."

Trip scrunched up his face as he thought. "Then why are you still here?"

"We had not yet made a decision on where we are going to stay." In other words, she hadn't managed to convince Jonathan despite numerous attempts that leaving the colony was in their best interest. She wouldn't leave the colony until she had his consent.

"T'Pol I think you're really going to like this surprise. Why don't you come along?"

T'Pol raised her left eyebrow and shut down the computer. "Very well."

"Come on then. I can't wait to see the look on your face when you see this."

Jonathan followed him out. T'Pol walked closely by Jonathan's side. He didn't need her physical support to walk anymore, but she was in the habit of walking near him in case he needed it.

"I wish I thought to bring blindfolds. Oh well, you won't see the surprise if we go the long way around."

It took fifteen minutes to walk the 'long way around'.

"Here it is." Jon and T'Pol both remained silent, "Well, tell me what you think."

Jonathan furrowed his brow and looked over the empty stretch of land that Trip had brought them too. The plot of land was on the edge of a group of completed or nearly completed houses. Less than a mile away stood one of the colony's greenhouses.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking at Trip?"

Trip sighed. "I called in a few favors and had both of your names designated on a plot of land. See these stakes." Trip pointed to four metal stakes making out a rectangle. "All of this is yours."

Jonathan silently stared at him. Looking over at T'Pol he saw his shock mirrored on her face. Emotion filled her eyes. He reached down and gently squeezed her hand. She turned her head and looked at him. He gave her a small smile.

It wasn't a pretty site. Determined clumps of grass sprouted out of the dry, cracked land. There was nothing spectacular about it. For some reason it seemed beautiful to both of them.

"It's wonderful Trip," Jonathan said with a huge grin.

"Don't just stand there. We've got work to do."

With that Trip ushered them off to numerous buildings to make arrangements. More arrangements were made via communicator while eating dinner on the Horizon. Jonathan was grateful. Running around all day depleted all his energy. T'Pol looked tired too. She drank several glasses of water and ate the biggest meal he'd ever seen her eat. She still looked tired after their meal. Jonathan suggested Trip put off showing them scrap parts until tomorrow.

"Why are you doing this? I thought you disapproved of me bringing Jonathan to the colony."

T'Pol sat across from Trip in the front seats of the shuttlepod he came down in. Jonathan was outside using the portable shower.

"I didn't agree with your decision until I saw Jon down here these past few visits. Jon seems happier down here than he was on Enterprise."

T'Pol sensed he was not being entirely truthful but let it go.

"I love Jon like a brother, but I think I couldn't do what you do for him. You watch him grieve over Earth and the people who died every day. And your wake up the next day and do it all over again. I don't know if I could handle seeing him like that again and again. You must care about him a lot to do this for him."

T'Pol neatly avoided quantifying her emotional attachment to Jonathan, "Someone has to care for him. Since I am Vulcan and able to handle his emotional reactions better than a human, I am the logical choice."

Trip gave her a disapproving look, undoubtedly for her comment about Vulcan superiority.

"It's more than that T'Pol and you know it. You care about Jon in your own way," when she opened her mouth to speak he put up his hand, "And don't tell me that Vulcan's don't care. Because I know you do."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. She looked out the view port of the shuttlepod. Through the open door of the shuttle she could hear the sound of insects and water running in the portable shower. She felt the ever-present link between her and Jonathan. She could admit to herself she felt something for him, but quantifying the emotion in human was difficult for her. Caring? Friendship? Love? T'Pol had never had a first kiss, a teenage boyfriend, or experienced any of the other 'customs' that familiarized humans with their romantic feelings.

"If the accident happened four years ago, I would not have helped Jonathan."

Trip laughed lightly and interjected, "You could have cared less about humans back then."

"Jonathan and you could have cared less about Vulcans back then."

"Yeah. Things have changed a lot since then."

"Indeed. At first I did not believe that Jonathan and I could work together as captain and first officer given our feelings towards each other's species. I did not expect another human emotion to facilitate a better understanding between us."

Trip looked at her confused. "What emotion?"

"Compassion. I witnessed Jonathan showing compassion to many of the alien species we encountered. But I did not anticipate him showing compassion to me. I did not expect him to want to keep me as his first officer. Or to come to support me on other occasions."

"I understand," Trip said. And he did. That was the way Jon was. His compassion, more than anything, instilled loyalty in his friends and crew.

He didn't fully understand though. There were many events he didn't know about. He didn't know that Jonathan found out that T'Pol had Pa'nar syndrome. And he still kept her as first officer. He didn't treat her any differently because of her condition. Trip probably knew he didn't leave her back on a planet so Enterprise could be lined with Trellium D. But he didn't know about their conversation in sickbay and how he insisted to once again keep her on Enterprise.

T'Pol mused that Trip might say, humans had 'rubbed off on her'. Mostly one human in particular. She hadn't intentionally set out to learn from Jonathan, but over the years she did. Just as he learned from her. Four years ago her logic would not be affected by human concerns like compassion. Now she could not make a decision without considering things like that.

T'Pol brought her attention back to what Trip was saying "- We both want what's best for Jon. We might not agree but we both have good intentions. Things like that don't have to come between us in the future T'Pol. I don't know if we can ever be friends again, but I hope we can."

His suggestion surprised her. "I think it is possible."

Trip smiled, "Good."

Jonathan walked in the shuttlepod in a pair of loose pants and a shirt. His wet hair stood at odd ends. He looked from T'Pol to Trip. "Did I miss anything?"

"Not much Jon. T'Pol and I were just talking about you. Don't worry, I didn't tell her anything too bad." Trip teasingly smiled at him.

Jonathan half-smiled, "I'm afraid to ask."

T'Pol and Jonathan headed back over to their campsite and tucked in for the night. The next day Trip woke them early to begin preparations.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Jonathan asked Trip and T'Pol.

"It would be a suitable roof for the house," T'Pol said.

"Yeah, it would," Trip agreed.

"You read my mind," Jonathan said.

"It was not necessary. This piece is adequate for use as part of the roof given the shape of the pieces we have already selected."

Jonathan half-smiled at her thinking she was telling another of her dry jokes. T'Pol unconsciously stepped closer to him.

"Oh, so I gather that means you like it," Jonathan said.

"It is acceptable," she said looking at him.

Before them sat a curved piece of outer hull probably from a cargo ship. They stood in a field littered with the remains of transport ships, cargo ships, shuttles, and other spacecraft dubbed the graveyard by the colonists. When ships were disassembled, the pieces ended up here. Each piece was scanned and entered into a database. Contractors could browse the database and find pieces suitable for their project. The pieces would then be transported via grappling arm to the construction site.

Jonathan, T'Pol, and Trip were shopping today for pieces to make Jonathan and T'Pol's new home. So far they'd found a mess hall and adjoining rooms to make up the main living space. Another room from another level of the transport ship would have enough space for one room and an adjoining bathroom. Since only two people would be living in their house, they could have only one bedroom according to the colonial regulations. Those regulations ensured that building materials were conserved.

Conservation also meant that the interior of their home would reuse many materials from their quarters on Enterprise and the rest would come from the rows of furniture, appliances, and fixtures in the building called the scrap yard. Their new home might not be what either of them would desire in a home, but it would do.

Jonathan and T'Pol couldn't construct their house alone. Trip would help Jonathan with some of the design and engineering aspects. Help was another term for friendly arguing about whose way of doing something was better. Jonathan usually won out, yet occasionally went with one of Trip's ideas. Trip would return to Enterprise in a few days and help via the comm. He had ship's business to attend to.

Other help would come in the form of members of Enterprise's crew. Many were eager to spend time helping their former captains. Both Jonathan and T'Pol would work on the house. Phlox gave them medical clearance to do so long as they informed him of any problems.

"Well, it looks like we're done here," Jonathan said as he checked over the padd with their requisitions on it.

Later that day they moved their requested pieces over near their construction site with a modified shuttlepod. A few days later, work began.

oooooooooooo

Jonathan had never told her what he did the day he learned of his father's condition. T'Pol talked with him a long time about what this could possibly mean. Could her dreams actually be real? It seemed that way. Vulcan doctors and scientists wouldn't seriously entertain the idea. Eventually Jonathan came to the conclusion he shared with T'Les.

"T'Les, we've exhausted all avenues of treating T'Pol on Vulcan. The doctors said the technology doesn't exist at this time to cure her. Please let me take T'Pol with me to Earth. I can search for a cure there."

T'Les sat across from him in her Vulcan robes. She reached for her teacup and slowly sipped the tea considering what he said.

Jonathan patiently waited for her reply. In the five months he'd stayed at T'Les' house, he'd learned that Vulcan conversations were not rushed. Answers required thought and consideration. Both of these required time.

During his stay he and T'Les built a relationship forged by their mutual caring for T'Pol. They sometimes didn't agree on what was best for T'Pol, like now.

Jonathan's eyes strayed to the room they sat in. If T'Pol's childhood home was on Earth, Jonathan would swear it had Asian influences. Sleek, minimalist modern design balanced out by ancient Vulcan relics. The color scheme echoed the hues of Vulcan's landscape. Suffusing the house was a sense of peace that Jonathan only felt before in a Buddhist temple in Tibet.

T'Les rested her cup back down. "T'Pol, did he consult you on this decision?"

T'Pol sipped her own tea and responded, "He asked me what I thought this morning. I told him I would defer to both your judgments since you are fully aware of the situation."

"A logical decision," T'Les commented. Another sip of tea and several minutes of silence followed.

T'Les watched the human man's features. When he first arrived with her daughter, she reluctantly granted his request to accompany T'Pol to the various institutions where she could seek treatment. Jonathan made a logical and sound argument that day. T'Les needed her job at the Academy to support herself. She could not afford to take the time off to take T'Pol from appointment to appointment. Jonathan had the time and was willing to do so.

A human using logic was something T'Les had never heard of. Jonathan intrigued her, and she began to see what her daughter found fascinating about him. Along with the intriguing aspects of his personality came the frustrating ones. The man was as stubborn as her daughter. Emotional and illogical reasoning sometimes guided him. He repressed his deepest emotions and kept them private most of the time, but when they were unleashed, they were powerful and threatened to consume his reason.

Jonathan was in essence a mass of contradictions. Her daughter, being a scientist, found puzzles, scientific and otherwise, fascinating. Jonathan was a puzzle that could be worked on for years without seeing the full picture of the man. T'Les came to understand that this man captured her daughter's curiosity like no other puzzle before.

T'Les' own puzzle revolved around Jonathan too. What exactly was he to her daughter, and what was she to him? Their relationship was complicated and beyond what she understood as friendship. T'Les observed their interactions weighing each look, each touch, and each word. She still could not understand her daughter's extreme loyalty to the man or the feelings they both worked hard to repress.

Looking up at Jonathan's patient gaze, she revealed to him, "There is another treatment we have not tried."

"Why haven't you mentioned it before?"

"If we seek out the ones who could provide the treatment, we will be breaking Vulcan law."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

T'Pol stared at her mother in shock as she explained.

oooooooooooo

Weeks passed quickly as both Jonathan and T'Pol worked along side the group of their former crewmembers building their home. T'Pol worried about Jonathan at first. He pushed his body as hard as anyone else. He continued to work despite the pain and her protests.

Each morning T'Pol handed him a padd containing notes from the previous days about the progress of construction and the design blueprints he and Trip made before Trip returned to Enterprise. They would have breakfast. Then they'd walk from the group of tents housing the construction crew over to the build site. About ten hours later, they'd return to their campsite. A long bath in the river or the portable shower would wash away the sweat and dirt.

Their days always ended sleeping next to each other in their small tent. A more comfortable airbed replaced their sleeping bags. That didn't stop Jonathan from rolling in his sleep invading T'Pol's side of the bed. One morning T'Pol awoke and slowly detangled herself from him. Only that time he hadn't rolled to her. She'd gone to him. Her head rested against his chest. She could hear his heart thumping against her ear. His right arm supported her head and his left wrapped around her back pulling her close. A leg draped over hers. He rhythmically breathed, blowing through her hair with each exhale. Being close to him, being in his arms didn't disturb her. Enjoying the closeness did.

She enjoyed the feel of his body next to her. Working on the construction of their house each day changed him. He regained the muscle he lost from dehydration. She couldn't remember consciously _enjoying_ the look or feel of him before that morning. The things she appreciated about him were mental not physical. His compassion, his friendship, the complexities and contradictions of everything that was Jonathan Archer. Perhaps she only became aware of her appreciation of his physical appearance then. Or maybe she just wouldn't admit to herself that the awareness existed before. She wondered as she moved back to her side of the bed if this was another side effect of their link. His human characteristics could be rubbing off on her. Deep mediation cleared her mind of the unfamiliar emotional reaction.

Their efforts and those of the team of dedicated crewmen who helped them paid off. Though their house wasn't anything spectacular to look at, it was home. The day they finished construction on the house was a cause for celebration.

Jonathan opened the door of their new home and let T'Pol step inside before him. Trip greeted them at the door and ushered them past the people clumped in groups throughout their home. They both were instructed to sit on the couch Jonathan recognized from his quarters.

A drink and plate of veggies, cheese, fruit, and cake soon found a place in his hands. Jonathan could see Hoshi, Malcolm, and other members of Enterprise's crew among the crowd. People milled about and occasionally came over to them to talk.

A blond woman introduced herself, "Hello sir. I just wanted to tell you I'll be your new neighbor. Mulcahey will be living with me, but she's working her shift at the water plant."

"Nice to see you again Natasha."

T'Pol chimed in as well, "It is pleasant to see you again, Lt. Thompson."

"Please have a seat. And call me Jon. I didn't realize we'd have Starfleet officers as neighbors."

Thompson sat down on a folding chair by the couch, "Almost all the plots around here are designated for Fleeters sir -- Jon. Some of the miners and boomers don't like Fleeters, so we're sticking together."

The crowd thinned out over the course of the afternoon. Several people, including Hoshi and Trip, stayed to help clean up. Hugs and until next times were exchanged with Hoshi and Trip. Both promised to come back to see them on Jonathan's birthday.

When he and T'Pol were finally alone, Jonathan decided to take a tour of the house. The place didn't have much in the way of furniture. The bar and kitchen were put together from what looked like a freighter's galley. A lot of things he recognized from his or T'Pol's quarters.

The house only contained one bedroom. Jonathan walked in the room. A double bed filled up one wall. The wall at one end of the bed held a tall rectangular window. A divider wall rose almost to the ceiling and separated the room from the main living quarters. The only other wall held his medicine cabinet and shelves and a door in the corner. Behind the door, a small bathroom housed his walk-in shower from Enterprise, a sink, and a toilet.

When asked, T'Pol explained colony regulations only allowed one bedroom for two people. It helped conserve raw materials. The tall cabinet in the living room held a hideaway Murphy bed that T'Pol would use.

A familiar bark came from behind him. Turning around he found Porthos staring back at him through the bars of a makeshift doggie crate. Jonathan bent down and set the dog free. Porthos jumped in his arms and licked his face. Jonathan caught T'Pol's disapproving look at Porthos. Hopefully Vulcan and canine could learn to cohabitate.

Jonathan resumed his tour of their home. The house has several computers, one in the bedroom and the other out in the living room by the front door. T'Pol explained Hoshi enabled them to link with Enterprise's computer. Malcolm set up the security features. Outside of his room was a protein resequencer.

"There's so much to take in. I can't believe we put this together in such a short time," Jonathan said sitting down in a chair across from the couch.

T'Pol sat down on the couch. Porthos jumped up and laid himself across the cushion next to her. She raised an eyebrow and sniffed the air but did not tell him to get down.

"Come here boy," Jonathan called. Porthos raised his head then put it back down refusing to move. Jonathan looked at T'Pol shrugging his shoulders. T'Pol raised an eyebrow silently agreeing with him.

"The help we received from Enterprise's crew allowed us to efficiently construct this building." They both discussed that for a while before starting to settle in.

Their first evening alone in their new home felt surreal. They spent most of the time opening crates and finding toiletries and other things they needed that night. Dinner was leftovers from the party. T'Pol found a padd of recipes from chef. Some of them were marked as being Jonathan's or her favorite dishes.

Later, while in search of her pajamas, T'Pol found a backpack in one of the crates. Washed clean of sand, salt, and sweat, it didn't show any signs of the journey it made on her back across a desert. Her hand smoothed over the pack and unfastened the closure. Crisp and clean clothing lay in a stack over a med kit now fully stocked including a tightly packed survival blanket. Absent was the bloody specimen bag, rags that Jonathan used to cover his head and eyes, and the empty water pouches.

Like the backpack, Jonathan was washed clean of the memory of those days they spent fighting to stay alive. He didn't remember the lengths she went to keep him alive. Soon, his body would be back to normal, and show no signs of those days either. Jonathan would stop asking what happened to him, and she would stop telling him of their journey through the desert.

T'Pol placed the bag back in the crate and closed it, moving on to the next one. Eventually she found her pajamas. She showered, and then made her bed while Jonathan showered. Jonathan's voice carried through the house as he quietly sang a somber song. The smell of his soap and aftershave wafted from the bathroom when he opened the door letting the steam out.

Since returning from the desert, she'd felt uncomfortable sleeping alone. Tonight she felt the absence of Jonathan's body next to hers more than usual. Gentle snoring emerged from the other room. The familiar sound slowly lulled her to sleep.

oooooooooooo

'Four more days,' Jonathan repeated to himself, 'Four more days until we reach Mount Selaya.' Dropping his backpack onto the tent floor, he laid down beside it. Not even bothering to roll out his bedroll. He didn't mind the small volcanic rocks poking into his back under the thin tent material. Being out of the oppressive Vulcan heat was enough for him.

A shadow outside his tent opened the Velcro closure of the Vulcan tent. Jonathan already knew who it would be. T'Les wouldn't come inside his tent. She would ask him to come outside to talk to her. T'Pol stepped inside letting a blast of hot air into the tent.

"You are due for another tri-ox injection," she said.

"Yes," he wheezed as his lungs struggled to keep up with the demands of his body in the oxygen poor atmosphere.

T'Pol moved over to his backpack and retrieved a first aid kit from it. Taking out a hypospray, she loaded it and injected his neck. Jonathan's breathing evened out moments later.

Since arriving on Vulcan, he'd used tri-ox off and on depending on his level of physical activity and if he was heading outside the comforts of T'Les' home that day.

Today had definitely been one of the days he needed it. They'd hiked for hours through the desert. T'Pol at first walked beside her mother. When it became apparent how much their journey was affecting Jonathan, she fell back and walked with him. He knew why- her memories of the other Jonathan and T'Pol struggling to survive.

Jonathan set up and looked at T'Pol who tried to hide that she was watching him. "You're wondering if this will turn out like your memories of the other desert."

"No," T'Pol denied, "Human physiology is not built to withstand the conditions of a Vulcan desert. I am merely concerned for your safety."

He weakly smiled at her. "Thanks. You know I've undergone survival training before. And this isn't the first time I've set foot in a Vulcan desert." Jonathan set about rolling out his bedroll and then lay back down.

T'Pol's curiosity didn't take long to get the better of her. "When were you in a Vulcan desert?"

Jonathan propped his head up with an elbow. "You remember surviving for days in a desert. What happened here wasn't as adventurous as that. En route to a remote Vulcan think-tank your mother's shuttle broke down when we encountered a sand storm. Our communications were knocked out by the storm. I made a mistake. I didn't tell the think-tank members when exactly to expect us. So they didn't report us missing for three days. We ate ration packs and rationed what little water we had while hiding out in the shuttle's interior during the heat of the day. Other than loosing some weight and growing a beard, I didn't suffer any ill affects. And you only had to suffer through the stench of me going three days without a shower."

T'Pol thought of the version of the events she remembered.

"T'Pol, would you mind telling me how they are doing."

"How who is doing?"

"The other me and you that you dream about. You usually tell me what's happening to them when I ask. With all that's happened lately, I haven't asked in a while. Have they completed their house yet?"

"Yes, They moved in several nights ago."

"Oh."

"She also had a dream..."

Continued in next chapter


	8. First House Part 2

Every child has fantasies about what they want to grow up to be. Few children grow up to be exactly whom they thought they would be. Jonathan Archer was different.

His first memories were of his mother reciting poetry and children's stories to him. The scent of his mother's perfume. His mother and father's faces. All ordinary things a person might remember. The event that began the dream for his future he didn't remember consciously when he reached adulthood.

One night he woke up and pulled himself up in his crib to stand. Through the window in his nursery he saw stars and a sliver of crescent moon. He stared at the sky for a long time. Longer than he'd ever paid attention to anything that wasn't another person or a toy. His legs gave out and he flopped back down to the crib mattress. He wailed non-stop until his mother came to soothe him. Not because he had fallen, but because he couldn't see the stars anymore.

Years passed. Henry showed his son the stars in the night sky. Stars were paired with names and clustered in constellations. He gave his son his first astronomy book. Later he showed Jonathan how to use a telescope. The boy would spend hours at night looking at the stars. He told anyone who would listen that he would be a part of the Warp 5 project one day.

Meanwhile, Henry continued to work on his warp engine. Jonathan loved to hear about it. Someday that engine would power a ship. They both would fly to the stars together with it.

All his fantasies seemed possible to him at the time. He would become a Captain, then an Admiral one day - if they had ranks that went above that of Boomer vessels. Dad would be beside him every step of the way.

Every dream has obstacles to attaining it. Dreams did come true, but sometimes they don't turn out the way you expect. Jonathan started to realize that when his father started loosing more and more of himself. Distancing himself from what happened each day didn't work. Each time his father forgot who his son was. Each time the disease cause his father's personality to warp and he lashed out at his child and wife. Each time the pain racked his body. It hurt to watch and it hurt to listen.

When the end finally came, Jonathan felt guilty that a part of him sighed in relief that it was finally over. Part of his dream died with his father.

What remained became a mission. A calling that he could not ignore. Nothing else really mattered. Few people came into his life to be his friends in high school and later in college. There was so much to do and learn to accomplish his dream. He couldn't let down Dad. He couldn't let down himself. He wouldn't allow the Vulcans or anyone else to stop him from achieving his goal.

After high school, he entered college at Princeton. A model student, he excelled in his classes and the only break from studying he allowed himself was water polo - except for dating. Occasionally a girl came along who made him smile and want to live a life more ordinary. They never stayed in his life for long. Who would want to become the mistress in his relationship with his goal?

Jonathan knew he had to be the best to be considered by the United Earth Space Probe Agency for flight school. He was well on his way when he graduated with honors.

When he hefted his diploma in his had, he felt like he'd made the next step on his path. Looking up to the sky, he silently told his father what he'd done. Tears shined in his eyes and he wished his father lived to see that day.

Jonathan searched the crowd and found his mother sitting nine rows back. He smiled and waved at her as he walked down.

Two weeks later he shifted in his cramped seat. A voice over the intercom of the airplane thanked the passengers for flying on the transatlantic flight to the Congo. The trip would only take three hours.

Jonathan watched San Francisco become smaller and smaller until the plane rose above the clouds. He didn't know if he'd return to San Francisco or any of North America ever again. His attention turned back to the padd in his hand. All the information was in order. Now he only needed to sign his name on the line and send the application off. The cargo ship Orion had a place for him. He only needed to finalize the paperwork.

He thought back to the events of the past few weeks…

"Are you happy Jon?" Sally Archer asked examining her son's face. Her green eyes were lie detectors. She'd know if he told the truth.

Jonathan set his cup of coffee down. He wondered why she'd ask such a thing. Their first dinner after his graduation proceeded with the usual conversation and his hopeful talk of the future until she asked this simple question. Why did she ask such a thing? Of course he was happy. Why wouldn't he be? He would be applying to flight school in the fall. Everything was going according to plan.

"I am, mom," he said with confidence and a smile.

She sipped her coffee with cream and sugar setting it down with a clink on the small glass table. Her smile crinkled her eyes. "I'm glad you are Jon. I'm so proud of you." She looked back down at her hands. A couple walked out of the bistro and passed their table laughing. Her smile faded. "I want you to know, I'd be proud of you no matter what you do in life"

Jonathan leaned forward, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sally sighed and sagged into her chair. "I know you want to see Henry's engine fly. If that doesn't happen, or if you decide to do something else, I will support you in whatever you persue."

Jonathan reached over the table and took her hands. "Why are you talking like this Mom? Are you worried that Dad's dream won't happen? It will. I'll make sure it does."

"I know you will. You love your father and his dream. But is it your dream too, Jon? Or are you doing this to please him?"

Jonathan dropped her hands and looked at her with eyes full of anger and hurt.

"How can you say that? It wasn't just his dream. I thought it was our dream as a family. Now you're talking like you don't care anymore."

"No Jon. I do care about it. But I will always care about you more. If you change your mind or if you fail…"

"I won't fail," he said with the overconfidence of youth, "and I won't change my mind. This is what I want mom."

She smiled, a too perfect smile that she wore to hide her sadness from him.

The next time he saw her she lay in a walnut box.

He swallowed and wiped the tears from his eyes. Aneurysm. Fast, painless. The night before she went to sleep and didn't wake up the next morning.

Jonathan reached over and picked up a small bag from the side table. Lavender silk gathered at the top by a drawstring closure.

The funeral home offered to do this, but he knew they'd do it all wrong. Her hair would end up fixed in a style she'd never worn and her makeup too light or too flashy.

He took his time. Brushing each strand of her silver streaked hair into place. Memories came to him of watching the brush glide through her blond hair as he zoomed past her dressing table pushing his toy spacecraft along the wood floor.

Jonathan closed his eyes trying to remember how she put on her makeup. The reflection in the mirror of her dressing table smiled at him. She said something about being good to his babysitter. They had these talks almost every time when she and Henry went for a night out.

Her lips moved asking him about his day. Foundation smoothed across her skin with a small sponge. Dust shook off the brush she used to stroke powder over her skin. It caught in the shafts of light from the windows dancing. As a kid he called it her fairy dust. Blush came next. It too danced in the light. Then a subtle smear of color enhanced her eyes. Lipstick always came last. Two swipes and blot the excess on her handkerchief.

The handkerchief he stuffed back in his pocket. He stood back and looked over his handiwork. At any moment she looked like she might open her eyes and tell him he knew warp theory but he couldn't put on makeup. He'd shrug his shoulders and tell her it was the best he could do, and she'd say that was good enough for her.

He blinked back the tears. He made quick work of fastening her favorite pair of pearl earrings to her ears. The matching necklace draped around her neck. A single rose, a peace rose from her favorite rose bush, he pinned to the collar of her blouse. She looked simple, beautiful, and elegant. Just like she always had been.

T'Pol spoke up from beside him, "You did well." Her hand came to rest on his right shoulder. He didn't hear or feel her.

Aunt Ellie entered the room and walked through T'Pol. She wrapped her arm around his back and hugged him to her side. She told him Sally looked beautiful. They cried together. Jonathan had made sure she was dressed up in her finest clothes. She was ready now to take Henry's hand. Then they'd head out the door together one last time.

After all the relatives and friends were gone, he finally stood on the wraparound porch of the two story sky blue house his parents moved to near the Redwood forests of California. From the front of the house he could see the grassy front yard gradually turn to sand until it reached the Pacific Ocean.

Jonathan thought back to his last conversation in person with his mom. He was so sure about his answer then but now things didn't seem so clear. Was he living his father's dream, his father's life?

He started making arrangements the next day. He settled things with his mother's estate, and began to look at other options for his future. He knew he needed to get away from the house full of memories and think. His destination didn't matter.

Rich in culture and history, Africa's Congo attracted tourists from on and off world. Jonathan went through the motions of a tourist vacation. Museums and historical sites were usually on his list of things to see. This time they couldn't hold his interest. He decided to go on a safari.

On the next to the last day of the safari he witnessed a gazelle giving birth. The baby gazelle stood up and began to walk on its legs and ran a short time later. Nothing ever came that easy for him or for humanity. Most of the things you wanted in life you had to work hard to get. The easy way could be appealing compared to the uphill climb to get what you really want.

That night he lay on a blanket looking up at the stars. He realized he was following his dream. His father didn't create the dream of Jonathan one-day exploring space. That was his dream alone. A cargo ship would take him to the stars, but he wouldn't be able to do much exploration. He would need his father's dream, the Warp 5 engine, to truly explore what was out there.

ooooooooo

She mediated each night before preparing for bed. It still didn't stop the dreams. She would wake in the hours before sunrise, when black sky began to turn to gray. Her eyes would stare out at their home and she would remember everything she dreamed of the night before.

This morning, she remembered lying on a blanket, long strands of brittle grass cushioning the ground beneath the blanket. Next to her lay Jonathan. She could hear his thoughts, feel his feelings, and touch what he touched, and see through his eyes. It was disorientating to be him yet be outside of him in these dreams.

Living his memories left her feeling drained some mornings. Her arms and legs sunk heavy into her soft sheets. The urge of to close her eyes and fall back asleep tempted her those mornings with the promise of another hour of sleep. The rest of the day she'd walk around her senses muffled. Days like that would clump together. When she had one she knew at least another would follow.

She told herself it was just the link between her and Jonathan. Eventually, when it faded away, this would too. The same excuse worked for the other symptoms she was having - the ones she hadn't managed to ignore.

Thankfully she awoke to the other type of day this morning. On the days she didn't feel sapped of energy, she felt fine. She had energy to expend. Her emotions leaned away from the negative and she felt almost content.

Without the struggle between her and the urge to cocoon herself in her covers, her morning routine passed by smoothly. Neatly tucking the sheets back in place, she then folded the Murphy bed back up into the cabinet in their living room. Morning exercise of stretching and Vulcan martial arts started her blood pumping. A flick of her long-handled lighter and her meditation candle lit spreading wisps of smoke into the air. She sat in the lotus position on the floor contemplating the flame, preparing herself for the emotions of another day.

T'Pol was not a good cook, but she didn't have to be. The protein resequencer did most of the work, and chef's instructions did the rest. Jonathan insisted on helping out with the noon and evening meals. Breakfast she preferred to make alone before he woke.

Jonathan snored in the other room. Emotions drifted to her occasionally over their link. He was having a pleasant dream. What did he dream of? Did he dream of her life like she did of him? She turned her attention away from speculation and back to making breakfast.

Fruit and oatmeal was breakfast today. While cutting up the fruit she'd resequenced, she looked out one of the portholes about the kitchen counter at the cleared plot of land next to their home. Soon construction would begin on a wind trap that would catch moisture and transfer it to a cistern dug deep into the ground for storage. It would be one of many spread throughout the colony. With it would come a construction team, and the possibility of close encounters with colonists who may or may not like her.

Sitting down with her breakfast she ate and thought while watching the world outside slowly saturate with color and light. Sunrays were beginning to peak over the horizon. This was her time of day. The time when she planned her day. The time before she broke the news once again to Jonathan.

The only being who shared this time with her was Porthos. He vacated his doggie bed and scampered in the room lured by the scent of breakfast. Sitting at her feet, he patiently begged for scraps. T'Pol slipped him a piece of the cheese she kept in the stasis unit especially for him.

Alien flavors mingled in her mouth. Strawberries, cantaloupes, and apples created a harmony of flavors. They tasted different than Jonathan's memories of the same fruit due to her Vulcan taste buds. T'Pol wondered how the pla-savas, a navy blue fruit with a subtle sweet aftertaste, would taste to Jonathan.

Ambassador Soval didn't bother to have Vulcan food dishes erased from the protein sequencers he provided the humans. T'Pol was thankful he didn't. She'd been craving tastes of home lately. Everyday she made Vulcan dishes for her. She enjoyed watching Jonathans reactions while they sat at the bar eating and talking. Some of his facial expressions were amusing to witness.

Bringing a slice of strawberry to her mouth, she bit in. Despite having scattered memories of another life for several months, T'Pol paused when she remembered what a strawberry tasted like from Jonathan's perspective. She thought of the link again. She made a promise to herself that she would see Dr. Phlox in a week if her condition did not change. Before then she would have to think of how to tell him the full truth about her link with Jonathan.

ooooooooooo

No off-worlder had ever climbed Mount Selaya. An exception was made for Jonathan Archer. T'Les and the figure shrouded in darkness by the hood of a bulky white robe talked in hushed Vulcan then they were allowed to pass. All the necessary arrangements had been made in advance. Jonathan passed the robed person who stood like a statue guarding the only route up the mountain.

"Thank you," Jonathan said in Vulcan to the person.

No response or movement came from the still form. The intense light of Epsilon Eridani reflected off the ancient Vulcan script on the closure of the robe. Jonathan walked on by and began to climb the steps hand carved into the rock of the mountain.

Two hours later.

"I need to rest for a moment," Jonathan called out.

T'Pol walked down the steps to his side and looked over his body and face. She motioned him to sit on a nearby rock. T'Les as usual watched on with curiosity and a hint of disapproval.

"You can still turn back and wait at the base of the mountain," T'Pol suggested.

"I'll be fine. I've climbed mountains before." He took a swig of his water pouch. Sliding his backpack off his shoulders, he searched for the med kit and slowly loaded it with tri-ox compound. The injection gave his body the extra oxygen it needed.

"You climbed mountains on Earth," she corrected.

Jonathan put his right hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "I'll be fine T'Pol. I've come this far. I can't leave you now." He weakly smiled as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "Besides, I haven't had a workout this good in a long time."

The torture of the climb lasted five more hours. T'Pol and T'Les rounded a bend ahead of him and continued walking like they hadn't seen the sight before them. Jonathan stood in awe looking at the massive natural archway rising up from the mountain to support a cliff that jutted out from the mouth of a cavern. On the cliff stood carved pillars, slabs, and other hand chiseled structures that gave off the aura of ancient rites and rituals preformed there for thousands of years.

Their destination was the cavern. A group of seven robed figures silently greeted them at the entrance. The one in front pushed his hood back to reveal his silver cap of hair, wrinkled face that betrayed his advanced age, and piercing black eyes. He raised his hand in the V of the Vulcan greeting. T'Pol and T'Les mirrored his gesture. Jonathan did as well showing the practice he'd had during his stay on Vulcan.

T'Les and T'Pol both spoke briefly with the man. He bowed and raised his hood to cover his head again.

T'Pol walked over to Jonathan. "I must go with them to prepare," she said as if that explained everything.

"Prepare for what?"

"I do not know," she calmly admitted.

"So you're going to let them do whatever they want to you?"

"Yes. The adepts of Mt. Selaya have studied the Vulcan mind for thousands of years," she added for his benefit, "It would be illogical for them to intentionally harm me."

"It sounds like you know more about this that I do. I just wanted to know that you understand what's going on. When will I see you again?"

"I do not know. Quarters will be arranged for you." T'Pol looked back at the hooded figures as if they called to her. "I should leave now."

She looked into his eyes silently communicating the things she could not say. When she turned to go, Jonathan gently grabbed her hand stopping her.

His voice was soft speaking to her in the way he reserved only for her, "Please ask them if I can see you each morning to explain what you don't remember. I don't want you to have to go through the confusion of not knowing."

He dropped her hand and reached up to push back a stray hair from her forehead. "Be careful. I'll see you soon."

Her hand cupped his and guided it down. She squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. Warmth traveled up his arm and reached his face breaking out into a smile.

"I will." Her fingers slid over his and left his hand hanging in the air.

ooooooooo

"Beautiful," Jonathan gasped.

The flashlight in his hand illuminated the painting on the wall of the monastery. The art in the ancient kingdom of Guge amazed him. The artists created paintings and architecture that could rival any in the world. He smiled and looked over at Margaret Mullen standing beside him. He silently thanked her again for bringing him to Tibet with her. The voice of their tour guide told them they needed to move along. A group of flashlight beams disappeared into the next room. They followed hand in hand.

One year earlier.

He never expected to meet the girl he'd want to marry in flight school. Sure, he'd met some girls. The types that want to have a drink and a dance with you at a club, and later they might want to get under your flight jacket. He usually didn't let it get that far. When he did, he was sometimes disappointed. Most of those encounters didn't last longer than a night, even if he wanted them to.

Who was he kidding? He didn't have time for a relationship to last longer than that. Learning to be a pilot wasn't easy work. And he hadn't expected so much studying to be involved. So when he was going up against other flight groups in flight competitions, romance was the last thing on his mind.

The first time he saw her she was boarding shuttlepod. She warned him she could out fly him any day. He smiled and said he'd like to see her try. She did out fly him that day. She shook his hand afterwards and smiled complementing him on his piloting skills. Jonathan loved her smile.

A few weeks later she walked up to him in the mess hall and asked him out. Seven hours later he rang her doorbell. She stepped out of her apartment in a black halter dress. Her long brown hair was gathered up on her head loosely. His hands itched to free it. Her brown eyes and red lips smiled at him. When he opened the ground car door for her, he smelled the jasmine in her hair and imported Asian perfume scenting her neck.

He was amazed that a woman like her would find him interesting at all. But she leaned in over the table fascinated during their dates listening to him tell her about Zefram Cochrane, Emory Erickson, and other people he met from the Warp 5 project.

Her stories seemed more interesting to him. She loved space and wanted to fly a starship one day. She received her pilot's license at age 9. She flew from San Francisco to New York City at 15. Piloting ran through her veins. Jonathan went to flight school as a kid, but he didn't accomplish as much with his license as she did.

Jonathan didn't expect their relationship to last long. Lately, his relationships had that trend in common. Each milestone amazed him. Their first kiss, picnic, and the weekend spent hiking, canoeing, and sharing a tent together followed in quick succession.

Three months into the relationship she said the one thing he'd never heard before, "I think you should come meet my parents."

She looked at him scared by him not answering immediately. He abandoned the skillet on the stove and wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him. "Okay. When do you want me to come see them?" He held her and they talked until the omelet he'd been cooking started to burn.

Meeting the parents wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Mrs. Mullen wore her dark brown hair short unlike her daughter. Her Filipino heritage showed in her beauty. Jonathan got the distinct impression she was suspicious of him. Maybe she was just being protective of her daughter, or maybe it was her investigative reporter gene thinking there had to be more to him than just a pilot.

Mr. Mullen was a chef and a pilot by hobby. He spoke with an accent that Jonathan couldn't place until the man began talking about the numerous European countries he grew up in. They hit it off better than Mrs. Mullen and he did.

After leaving full of lumpia, pansit, adobo, and hospitality, he waited to hear how he'd done from Margaret. "They like you." she said as she smiled and hugged him close for kissed him. Their silent observer watched nearby. She turned away as they kissed.

Spring break was a month away and graduation three months away when she broached another question.

"Good morning," she said handing him a cup of coffee.

He blinked and groggily replied, "Good morning."

She adjusted her silk robe and sat beside him on her bed. Jonathan sat up in bed and sipped his coffee. A puddle of red sheet formed around his waist. Margaret leaned over and adjusted his hair. Jonathan caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. His coffee and hers were sat on the side table before he kissed down her neck and untied her robe with the ease of familiarity. Margaret moaned his name as he quickly made her forget the question she'd woke him up to ask.

Later that day, while he helped her make empanadas, she remembered her question. She asked him while stirring the mixture soy-meat, onions, potatoes, and spices in the skillet.

"Jonathan, I want to go on a pilgrimage."

"Oh," he replied. He stopped rolling the sweetened dough, and looked to his right to see her face. His face was expressionless but his mind was trying to anticipate what she meant. Was she coming back? Would she want to still be with him when she returned?

She smiled at him. "I want you to come with me."

He dusted the flour from his hands. "Where?"

"Ngari, Tibet has one of the oldest surviving Buddhist temples in the world. My mother traveled there when she was about my age. I've heard so much about the Guge kingdom and the temples. I want to go there, but I don't want to go alone."

"I'll go with you."

Jonathan felt like they'd reached another milestone. They were going on a long vacation together. He thought about how much he enjoyed the time he spent with Margaret. Not just their lovemaking, but having her as a companion. She enjoyed his company too. They practically lived in each other's apartments. The question of marriage hadn't come up yet. Flight school kept them both busy, and Jonathan thought he was lucky enough to have her, why tempt fate? Now she'd ask him to come with him on a journey spiritually important to her. She wouldn't ask just anyone to come with her. She trusted him and loved him. Jonathan began to consider tempting fate.

Tibet was simply beautiful. Tourists and pilgrims alike came to enjoy its physical and spiritual beauty. The Tibetan New Year was approaching. Prayer flags were draped on the overhangs of buildings and at sacred sites. The flags symbolized the elements, blue for sky, white for clouds, red for fire, green for water, and yellow for earth. The mythical wind horse decorated them. The horse carried the prayers on the wind up to the heavens.

Prayer wheels almost as tall as him dominated one side of the temple Margaret and he stood outside of. People who passed by the wheels turned them and said, "Om mani padme ham."

"They are saying a mantra. The same one that is written on the prayer wheels. The mani stones pilled around the stupa also have the mantra painted on them," Margaret explained.

She looked over him briefly like he was an outsider for asking her what it meant. He noticed lately that she had that reaction to him when he asked questions about Buddhism. So he started asking fewer questions. He thought they'd gotten past this early on in their relationship. He wasn't Buddhist and didn't go with her to meditation services or to temple. But he respected her beliefs because they were an important part of her life. Margaret seemed to accept that difference between them until they came to Tibet and it became more apparent. That was the only bad thing about their trip. Otherwise it was an experience he would surely remember for the rest of his life.

Things between the two of them returned to normal back in San Francisco. The night before his graduation from flight school, they went out to dinner to celebrate. He took her to a small café they both enjoyed on Market Street. The night was cool and mist hung in the air. The stars were coming out and twinkling. Everything seemed right and perfect. Inside his pants pocket, a velvet box bounced up and down in time with his steps.

"Aren't you coming up?" Margaret asked as he stopped at the steps leading up to her building.

"Margaret. There's something I want to ask you." She unconsciously stepped down to the bottom step.

Jonathan fished the box from his pocket and bent down on one knee. "Margaret. I love you. When I started thinking about graduation, I realized how much I love you and that I don't want what we have to end after I graduate. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

T'Pol watched the memory aware of her own emotions. His love for Margaret was plain on his face. She desired what they had - a relationship free of the constraints that came with words like caretaker and friend.

"Jon. I -" she broke off. Jonathan's smile faded as her expression changed. No smile, no happiness, no tears, just sadness in her eyes.

"I can't," she managed.

"Why? Why can't you?" The box in his hand felt heavy. He dropped his hand down and stood up, holding it loosely.

"I thought you understood, Jon. What we have is great, but we can't get married and have kids like normal people. We're both joining Starfleet. We'll be married to our jobs, and we won't have time for each other. I can't be a Starfleet widow, Jon. And I wouldn't want you to be married to an absent wife either."

"We could work it out. We could serve together on the same ship."

"Be realistic Jon. Starfleet doesn't allow fraternization. We wouldn't be allowed to serve on the same ship. We'd be away from each other for months or years at a time."

She wouldn't ask him to give up Starfleet for her. And he would never ask her to either. They couldn't change who they were. He hadn't been blind to the biggest obstacle between them. He thought they could some way, somehow be together.

He pleaded with her, "There has to be a way."

"I'm sorry Jon," she cupped his cheek. Tears were sparkling in her eyes. "We couldn't survive it. If you think about, you'll see it's true."

"I'm sorry too," he whispered as he pulled away from her hand and walked down the sidewalk to his ground car. He heard her call after him but he didn't turn around. He was hurt that she rejected him. And he was angry, but not at her, at the truth.

ooooooooo

Jonathan's smile widened when he saw both of T'Les' eyebrows stuck at the top of her forehead. He knew his relationship with T'Pol continued to be an enigma to her. Before either of them could say anything, they were guided through the catacombs in Mt. Selaya connecting the network of natural and man made chambers extending for miles into the mountain.

The catacombs reminded him of those he'd seen at P'Jem. A pair of adepts guided them through tunnel after tunnel and seven chambers. Along the way they also passed openings to small sparse rooms where the adepts lived. Most of the chambers and tunnels were formed in ancient times by magma hollowing through the mountain on its way to the surface.

Niches were caved into the drab rusty orange walls of the chambers. Relics and statues were displayed inside. Candles were the only light in the tunnels and chambers. Candlelight flickered from tall and short pillars mounted on candelabras, perched in tiny niches, or arranged simply in other ways. Tears of melted wax cascaded down their sides.

Nearly thirty minutes after they entered the mountain, T'Les and Jonathan were deposited in a small chamber and instructed to wait. An hour passed before the waiting ending.

A hooded figure entered the chamber. T'Les arose from her lotus position on the floor and moved to greet their visitor. Jonathan stood up from the rock he was resting on and hesitantly stood five steps behind her. The person pulled back the hood of their adept's robe.

T'Les looked over the wild, flowing hair of the middle-aged Vulcan and immediately recognized him. He raised his hand in the Vulcan greeting. T'Les and Archer both returned the gesture.

"Syrran." She stepped forward until she stood closer to him than Jonathan had ever seen her stand to anyone.

"T'Les," his stoic voice gave no indication of their relationship.

"I didn't know you would come," T'Les admitted.

"Your daughter may need the knowledge of Surak to find a cure. Coming here was only logical."

Jonathan felt like they were unaware that he was there. He silently watched them.

"You put yourself and the future of Vulcan at risk by coming here."

"It is a risk I am willing to take." T'Les nodded her understanding and shared a long look with Syrran.

T'Les broke gazes with him and looked over at Jonathan.

"Syrran, this is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise."

Syrran looked him over. His eyes showed none of the attitude of looking down on human that he'd become accustomed to from most Vulcan except T'Pol.

"You are the captain that T'Pol serves under?" he asked.

"Yes." Jonathan prepared to verbally defend himself.

"Why are you here?"

"T'Pol needs me," he said confidently.

"No, she does not. Her mother could take care of her needs."

"T'Pol allowed me to come here. She said I could stay. So, I'm staying here for her," he silently added whether you like it or not.

Syrran looked from Jonathan to T'Les and back. "I understand your reasoning," he turned to T'Les and told her, "I will find T'Pol and see if I can do anything for her. Wait here until I return."

Jonathan sighed and sat back on the rock. If he wasn't exhausted, he would pace. Waiting not knowing what was happening to T'Pol was going to be hard to do.

"Could you please tell me what that was all about?"

T'Les looked from the tunnel which Syrran disappeared into over to Jonathan. "It would take some time to explain."

"Time is one thing we have plenty of right now."

T'Les sat down in lotus position on the cave floor and considered his request.

ooooooooo

"Margaret Mullen. You met her when you were 24 years old, during flight school in San Francisco. The night before you graduated, you asked her to marry you outside of her apartment on Westgate Avenue. She turned you down. She said she didn't want to become a Starfleet widow."

He stopped pacing around the room and turned to her listening dumbfounded as she told him of Margaret. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Our relationship has evolved over time." It was the truth. The connection between them and their relationship had evolved.

"If that's the case, I could understand me telling you about Margaret, but why would I tell you she lived on Westgate Avenue? Why would I tell you such an insignificant detail?"

T'Pol didn't know how to respond she hesitated, "I don't know."

He was in her face now looking in her eyes, searching for answers. Confusion hung on the air between them. "You're lying. T'Pol would never lie to me. Who are you? A Suliban?"

"I didn't lie. You didn't have to tell me. I saw it in a dream."

"You expect me to believe that?" He started backing away from her. She knew he was planning a way to escape thinking this might be a holographic room.

T'Pol shifted in her seat forging ahead into uncovered territory, "Several months have passed since our shuttle crashed in the desert. With limited water we manage to survive until search parties found us," she purposely left out some of the details. How long they were there, why their shuttle crashed, and how she kept him alive when they ran out of water. "You slipped into unconsciousness in route to a water source. You regained consciousness for a short time after drinking water. Then your organs began to fail…" she swallowed. Her eyes were glassy with moisture, "I knew of only one way to extend your life."

Jonathan knelt in front of her. Her story had lured him slowly back to her side as he began to believe her. He whispered, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer, "What way?"

"You already know that Vulcans are telepathic. We are touch telepaths."

"That explains why you don't like to be touched."

"Yes. In ancient times, Vulcans used their telepathy regularly. Sensing emotions of others around them and participating in mindmelds. Most telepathic activities are now restricted by the Vulcan High Command."

Jonathan remembered talking to the pigheaded Vulcan doctors who tried to have T'Pol removed from Enterprise because of her Pa'nar syndrome.

"Mind melds are only one form of telepathy. Non-melders are capable of some of these practices. One of these practices involves helping another Vulcan enter a trance for healing if they are not able to. I instructed you on how to enter such a trance."

Jonathan nodded. He wasn't sure exactly sure he was following her, but he could feel she was telling the truth.

"There is a link between us - one that connects you telepathically to me. I strengthened it in order to communicate with you."

Jonathan gaped and looked over at the nearest wall. He didn't know what to think. He woke up this morning to a world he could never have imagined. Earth destroyed, survivors living in a colony cobbled together from ship parts, T'Pol living with him as his caretaker, and a link between them connecting them. Everything seemed so bizarre that it could be true.

A hand gently touched his cheek. Physical and mental warmth spread through him from her palm. A smile upturned his lips. Her eyes mirrored the caring she sent him.

"I believe you," he said softly. Her hand dropped back to her lap.

So this was the way they were, Jonathan thought. Their relationship evolved, but never beyond a certain point. They shared a house, shared each other's company, but never achieved the intimacy of a couple living together. Not just physical intimacy- freedom to expression feelings in words and in actions. The unguarded feelings he glimpsed for a moment in her eyes made him almost certain T'Pol wanted their relationship to evolve to that point. He did too. The thought amazed him. He hadn't admitted to himself that his feelings for T'Pol went beyond close friendship. The realist in him knew it wouldn't work while he was sick.

He whispered the words that came into his mind, "Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched..."

"Yes," T'Pol confirmed looking at him confused. She said the words aloud acknowledging to him and to her what she'd try to deny for weeks, "We are bonded. Our minds connected as bond mates. Our bond will strengthen until it can only be broken by death."

What she described sounded like a marriage of the minds. Something intimate and personal. He remembered his mother married to a husband that at times couldn't remember her and couldn't be a companion to her anymore. He didn't want T'Pol to be married to him if that was the price she would pay.

"Can we do anything to stop it?"

"I don't know." T'Pol admitted.

Jonathan had many questions left about this link between them. He dropped them knowing it would be uncomfortable for T'Pol. He placed his hands on her shoulders wanting to hug her to him. He focused on his feelings, trying to convey only reassurance and strength. T'Pol looked up at him and sent a thank you with her eyes.

Parted from me and never parted. The words repeated in his head.

ooooooooo

T'Pol didn't like the prospect of a mindmeld after her experience with Tolaris. She knew the adepts of Mount Selaya would not intentionally harm her, yet she still felt fear.

"I have Pa'nar syndrome," she told the man who identified himself as Syrran.

"We know. Pa'nar syndrome is caused by those who do not know how to mindmeld properly. I can cure the illness if you will allow me."

T'Pol shifted in the thick white adept's robe considering this. Candlelight flickered on Syrran's face highlighting his eyes and casting shifting shadows on him. "Is there any risk?"

"The mindmeld involved is difficult. I have successfully cured 17 people since I acquired the knowledge," he almost added - _of Surak_.

T'Pol purposefully didn't ask how many people the mindmeld had been unsuccessful on. "I agree to the procedure."

Syrran noticed she avoided saying mindmeld. He left her in the small quarters to meditate alone.

Two hours later she was escorted deep into the tunnel system to a massive cavern whose ceiling and walls were shrouded in darkness. Candlelight flickered on candelabras but the light couldn't travel far enough to illuminate the depths of the cavern. The cavern smelled of moisture. T'Pol strained to hear running water, but only heard the breathing of the other people in the room. Sitting on the floor of the cave were the adepts, priests, and priestesses of Mt. Selaya.

T'Pol passed by rows and rows of adepts. Their faces concealed by the hoods of their white robes. Hundreds of them sat in the room. She walked with her silent escorts towards the high priestess at the front of the chamber. Adorned in her ceremonial headdress and robes, she looked out of place flocked by several plainly robed priests and the man named Syrran. T'Les waited beside him.

T'Pol looked around for another face. Jonathan must be impatiently waiting for her elsewhere. She understood why he wasn't here. He was an outsider. More than that, humans had an aura of unrestrained emotion around them more powerful than the clouds of odor that trailed after them. Syrran told her he could be a distraction.

The energy in the room was palatable. T'Pol's ears tingled. Looking closely at a group of adepts sitting by a candelabra, she saw their eyes closed. She blinked remembering an ancient Vulcan practice that pooled telepathic powers through group telepathy.

"T'Pol, daughter of T'Les, we welcome thee," the priestess' aged voice coolly greeted her. Wrinkles cut channels through her tanned skin. Her silver hair was braided in a style several centuries older than her.

"I am honored to be here," T'Pol replied being careful to keep all emotion from her voice.

The priestess nodded her head then spoke in a dialect of Vulcan that dated back to a time before the formation of the religious sanctuary at Mt. Selaya. A time when the first priests and priestesses began writing the scrolls containing their knowledge of telepathy and the Vulcan mind. Thousands of years before High Command forced them to perform telepathic rituals in secrecy.

Adepts guided T'Pol to a platform. She lay down and the high priestess approached with Syrran. Aged, bony fingers touched the pressure points on the right side of her face and tough padded fingers the other.

A voice, the combination of feminine and masculine spoke in her mind._ Our minds are one. Our thoughts are one. Do not be afraid T'Pol. _

Tendrils searched through her mind. Two consciousnesses were scouring her mind. She felt open and exposed. Nothing could be hidden from them. They saw who she was yet they did not judge her.

_You are still a Vulcan, T'Pol. _The masculine voice said in explanation.

_Surak. _

_I am here. _

T'Pol gasped audibly. Syrran was not searching her mind. Surak was.

Tremors came from Surak and the high priestess. She knew what they'd found. Tolaris. His thoughts, his memories implanted in her mind by the forced mind meld. His stain left to seep into her mind. No matter what suppressive techniques she tried, she never felt clean. A part of him was always inside her.

_I can cure thee my child. _

A tear slid down T'Pol's face as she felt the damage in her mind repaired, and the memories and thoughts of vanish.

_I feel a presence. A human. The... parasites exist outside of time connecting you with the other who's mind is a host. You see through him his existence and through his bond with his mate her existence._

A memory surfaced one of Jonathan and his childhood home. Painting clouds and creating daisies. Jonathan whispering that if she wanted to find him he would be there. It was him. The other Jonathan. She could feel that dream was different from the others. She dreamed it and not the other T'Pol. Jonathan was trying to tell her how to find him.

_We cannot remove the parasites or restore memories that never formed. _

Both presences retracted from her mind.

ooooooooooo

"I don't understand why you waited so long to see me T'Pol." Phlox's disappointment and frustration with her was plain on his usually jovial face.

T'Pol decided that telling the truth would be the most logical course of action, "I believed that my symptoms would gradual diminish along with the strength of the bond."

"And when were you going to tell me that you strengthened an existing telepathic connection in order to heal him?"

"That detail was not necessary for you to know in order to heal Jonathan."

Phlox sighed. Vulcans, they could be even more unforthcoming with information to their doctors than humans.

"In the future, please come to me when you begin to have unusual symptoms. You could be wrong in you assumption that this was due to your bond. I'll perform some scans and see if I can rule out your Pa'nar syndrome first."

T'Pol waited impatiently as he ran different scans and asked her questions. His only comments on the results were hmmm.

"Do you feel fatigued some days and energetic others?"

"Yes. The fatigue can last for days at a time. When I am not fatigued, I do feel energetic."

"Have you noticed any increase or decrease in your appetite?"

"My appetite has increased. Is that a problem?" She didn't mention being drawn to the stasis unit by one craving or another a few times a week.

"Not at all. You've gained some weight, but it's not adversely affecting your health," he put his scanner down on a side table.

"Doctor, do you know what is causing my symptoms?"

"Not yet, I have a suspicion, but I'd like to run more intensive scans to be certain.

T'Pol nodded her head and thought of Jonathan. He said he wanted to take Porthos on a walk through the colony while she was here. If he came back before the Doctor completed his examination, he could just wait in the waiting room or walk the short distance home.

Twenty minute of tests later, Phlox had an answer, "I'm happy to tell you that your Pa'nar syndrome is still in remission. Tell me, have you had any feelings or desires of a sexual nature since the beginning of your symptoms?"

"I fail to see how that is relevant."

"It is relevant T'Pol. If I'm correct, your brain is producing massive quantities of hormones that are affecting your energy levels and your emotional state in different ways. Your body is preparing your reproductive organs for your pon farr. I need to know how far your symptoms have progressed."

It all made sense now to her. In a Vulcan woman, pon farr was usually induced by a bond with a man. His fever would be transferred to her. Vulcan women entered their first un-induced pon farr sometime between their 70s and 80s. By then, the woman would have already undergone several pon farrs induced by their mate. If they were bonded, their mate would catch their fever. Pon farr was a private matter, so T'Pol knew little about the changes in the body that led up to the actual fever.

"I have not felt the fever burn inside of me yet. I have felt at times sexual… appreciation and desire. But not with any regularity."

"The Vulcan database is understandably not forthcoming in this area. So I can't be sure how much time you do have until the fever begins. I want to closely monitor your condition until your fever ends."

T'Pol looked over his shoulder at the wall and nodded. Knowing what her condition was didn't make her feel relieved.

"Doctor is the bond and pon farr somehow connected?"

"They could be. It is also possible that the stress your body went through in the desert triggered your cycle to activate. Or these events may be coincidences and this is simply your time."

Phlox steered the conversation towards the topic she was avoiding, "Now is the time to consider your options. Since your pon farr is natural, I can't give you medication to stop it. You will have to choose a mate."

"I know." And that was the problem. Her body would desire any male in the throws, but her mind and her feelings would desire one male in particular. A deeper connection of body and mind would only purge the fever. A night, several days, or even a week might be required of him.

How would she explain to him so he would help her? How would this change their relationship? She didn't know.

"Before the time comes, talk to him. I think you'll be surprised by his answer."

Phlox left a few instructions for her on a padd and released her. Jonathan was sitting in the waiting room with Porthos lying at his feet.

"Is everything alright? You look sad," he asked as they walked back home.

"I'll be fine. I have a problem to think about."

He examined her face concerned, "Okay. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Dust kicked up underneath their shoes. They passed through the outskirts of the colony. Children played in the streets. Adults walking by or sitting on their "porches" noticed them. Almost everyone said hello or at least waved, even if their eyes didn't hold the welcome. With your neighbors only a few feet away it was best to play nice to everyone. The rumor mill would spread around your misdeeds faster than electricity traveling from the solar power plant.

The smells of and sounds of daily life traveled out open doors and windows. People cooking, singing, praying, laughing, crying, shouting, eating, sleeping, and making love. Everyone was going about his or her life. T'Pol envied what they had. A normal life with normal problems.

ooooooooo

T'Pol opened her eyes and examined her surroundings. Her body was enveloped in the warmth of a white down comforter. Looking overhead she saw dark wooden beams running parallel to one another across the white ceiling.

T'Pol pulled herself up to lean against the iron headboard of the bed and looked around the room. An open closet held her clothing on hangers inside. An antique cherry chest of drawers sat next to the closet with her meditation candles lined up on the top. On the side of the bed nearest to her was a nightstand with a stack of books. Some of the titles were in English others in Vulcan.

A closed door painted in the same pale shade of yellow as the room was the only exit to the room besides the closed set of French doors. Through the plate glass she saw a wooden porch leading out to a beach and the ocean. A pair of matching Adirondack chairs sat on the porch with a table in between them. T'Pol wondered how she'd come from Ceti Alpha 5 to this place.

Three knocks on the closed door caught her attention.

"Come in."

Jonathan's tousled head of hair poked through the door followed by the rest of him. He smiled, "Good morning. You're up late this morning. I've made breakfast already. Whenever you're ready to eat you can come out and I'll explain everything."

T'Pol dressed and came out to the kitchen. Jonathan guided her to the cherry wood dining room table and chairs. He served her breakfast and explained everything.

"Earth was not destroyed?"

"We're on Earth, Northern California to be exact."

He continued with his story, "Even with your memory difficulties you were still able to contribute to the success of our mission. After we returned from the mission, I took you to Vulcan to see the best healers, scientists, and even the high priestess of Mt. Selaya. Unfortunately, they could only cure your Pa'nar syndrome. They said the means to remove the parasites didn't exist yet. With your mother's consent, I brought you back to Earth to consult specialists here. We've lived in this house together since then. I took a position as Ambassador to Vulcan so I can be here with you. We can travel back to see your mother when I'm at the Earth Embassy on Vulcan."

He paused and smiled, "You've been helping me with the finer points of Vulcan diplomacy."

"I am having difficulty believing you. Before I woke up in the other room, I clearly remember falling asleep in our home on Ceti Alpha 5."

"I know those memories seem like they are your own, but they're not. Think about your memories before being stranded in the desert. They were memories from my perspective."

T'Pol went over her memories again, "You are correct."

"That reality is one where I was infected with the parasites. Those parasites exist outside of what you referred to as the space-time continuum. They link you with the other me and with his bond mate, T'Pol."

T'Pol's mind tried to process the information and reconcile it with what she remembered. "I remember dreaming of this place before."

"Yes," Jonathan smiled, "You told me about the dream. I'm afraid the backyard isn't as beautiful as you described." He could see the confusion in her eyes, "You have every right to be confused T'Pol. I can only imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. Let me make you some tea and we can talk some more out on the porch. The sun is about to rise."

T'Pol sipped her mint tea and relaxed in the chair beside Jonathan looking out at the red hue of the clouds radiating from the sliver to yellow light on the horizon.

"Why did you give up your command and move here to care for me?"

"You saved my life in the corridor. You could have left me under that fallen beam but you didn't. I owe you my life and this is a small sacrifice in order to let you live with someone you're comfortable with. I can't let my friend go through this alone." He reached out and held her hand then reluctantly let it go.

"Is our relationship still one exclusively of friendship?"

Jonathan half-smiled and said, "You always ask me that. I guess that's what I get for giving you the room with a queen size bed. Our relationship has evolved, but I can't allow it to become romantic. I wouldn't feel right doing that when you won't be able to remember any of what happened."

"I understand."

"I suppose you do. From your perspective, you cared for me on Ceti Alpha 5." Jonathan looked out at the rising sun then back into her eyes. "Almost every day you tell me what happened in your dreams. If you want to talk about it, I'd like to listen. I enjoy hearing about the adventures of the other you and me."

T'Pol told him of what happened that day, leaving out the part about her pon farr. Jonathan smiled and commented on parts of her story.

"The me in your dreams is lucky," he said without thinking.

"What do you mean?"

Jonathan pressed his lips together holding back what he wanted to say. He sighed and decided to tell her. "You chose to stay with him. You're there for him when he needs you. He's so lucky that you remember him and everyday you've spent with him."

He stood up and walked over to rest his elbows on the railing. T'Pol followed him resting her hands on the railing beside him. Looking over at him, she read his face.

"I enjoy watching the sunrise with you. We start our days like this. I get to spend the day with you. The night always comes too soon. We watch the sun set together sometimes. I don't like to, but I do it for you. Gray spreads over the sky after the sun sets reminds me that you will fade away just like the sunlight." Jonathan sighed. "What am I doing? I'm not supposed to talk to you about this."

She placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture he'd extended to her many times. She softly whispered, "I understand."

How many times did she wish that night wouldn't come? How many times did she illogically hope that the next morning he would wake up and remember? How many of Phlox's treatments failed and with them her hopes?

Jonathan looked at her and put his hand over hers on his shoulder. He brought it down to hold. "Thank you."

That day they walked Porthos along the beach. T'Pol later helped Jonathan make a Vulcan dish for her late lunch. She watched him from across the table, trying to get a sense of this man she knew but didn't know. His lips curved up as he closed his mouth around another bite of beef stroganoff. After a sip of wine, he told her that watching him seemed to be her past time during their meals.

"Will you watch the sun set with me?"

"Of course," he answered. She knew he didn't like watching the sunset, but she has something to discuss with him.

"I once told you that Vulcans mate every seven years…"

She continued to explain to him that her time may be near. They would face this together. The sun was setting, the night taking the light from the sky again. Another day was ending, but there were so many ahead to live.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter I will try to keep shorter, so it doesn't take as long to write. I will also _try _to keep it PG-13 or R. Everyone have a great Labor Day weekend!


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